Code: DxD Potter
by MetalGearMantis
Summary: (DxD/ Code Geass / Harry Potter Amalgaverse) Harry Potter was the 'forgotten child' of his family, thanks to his prodigy like elder siblings and his little sisters' status as 'The Girl Who lived'. However, he was not going to let this stop him from becoming the best. With an indomitable will and the resolve to do whatever he must, he will either ascended to the top, or die trying.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Notes = A/N**

"Normal Speech."

' _Thoughts."_

" _Foreign Language."_

" _ **Sacred Gears/Weapon spirits speech."**_

' _ **Sacred Gear/ Weapon spirits thoughts."**_

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_

 **Why hello there folks, my name is MetalGearMantis, and welcome to my newest story.**

 **Now this is, without a single doubt, going to be the biggest and most complex cross-over that I have ever planned. I spent almost sixteen hours painstakingly going over every detail, and that only covers the first half of the story! This is an Amalga-verse involving major elements from: Harry Potter, Highschool DxD and Code Geass. It will also include minor inclusions from series such as : Bleach, Fairy Tail and many other shows.**

 **Like I said, I've never attempted anything of this scale before, and as such I am a little nervous as to how it will be received. But hey: nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?**

 **I'm going to point out now that this story will not immediately include the things I've mentioned. They will be indirectly referenced, but in order for this story to work properly, I'm starting from the ground up. It's going to take us roughly fifteen (ish) chapters to hit DxD cannon (which is the main focus of this story), but there will be major interactions with aspects of the series long before that – it just won't be cannon events.**

 **Also, I am going to deal with any potential FAQ's now with a few notes below:**

 **Q: Will Harry and co. use wand-based magic in this story?**

 **A: No, the story will use the style of Magic found in Highschool DxD, mixed in with Geass' from CG and other magics from other magic-based shows, such as Fairy-Tail.**

 **Q: Will this be a Harem fic?**

 **A: Yes, and Harry's harem WILL contain girls from all three major series: but I will NOT reveal them off the bat. It spoils the fun of finding out who's in love with who and how different relationships will play out. Well, aside from the fact that Harry isn't paired with Rias: she's still Issei's number one girl, and the whole Harry x Rias thing is just something that is a bit overdone and a pairing I don't (personally) like. Also, the harem won't go any larger than ten or eleven members, but you guys will get to vote on some of the members, so don't worry about it too much.**

 **Q: Is this a neglect fic (I.E Harry's parents just don't give a shit about him?)**

 **A: No. In fact, a lot of the issues Harry has now will be replaced or adapted later on. His parents love him and know he's there but… well it's explained in the chapter, so just make sure to pay attention XD.**

 **Q: Will Harry have a Sacred Gear?**

 **A:Yes. And No, I'm not saying what it is: it'll ruin the surprise. But if you read the story VERY carefully and think about it, you may get an idea as to what his Gear may be before it makes its epic appearance.**

 **Q: Is Harry going to be 'dark' in this fic?**

 **A: He's most certainly an Anti-hero in my opinion. He's the man who walks the fine line between madness and sanity, evil and good, the truth and deceit, all for the good of the world. What do I mean by this? Well you're gonna have to wait and see, I'm afraid!**

 **Any ways, I've said enough for now.**

 **Let's get this show started.**

 **(Edit Note: Thanks to ApocalypticPhoenix for Beta-ing the chapter. Make sure to go check out Phoenix's work: awesome writer who deserves far more acclaim than he has!)**

* * *

 _(Prologue: The birth of a legend)._

* * *

( _England, Potter Manor, Manchester area, 10:47 PM, June 30_ _th_ _2007)_

* * *

Thunder rumbled through the night sky like a vengeful god, drowning the land below in a cacophony of noise that few had ever experienced. Rain was falling from the sky in sheets of icy water and the winds themselves seemed to howl in anger and defiance, as if protesting against some great crime. The entirety of northern England was bathed in this monstrous storm, and none more so than the area around the Potter estate near Manchester… and yet, oddly enough, the House itself was only subjected to the faintest gust of wind and the light pitter-patter of rain as it steadily hit the ground.

Said house was a gorgeous building that was clearly modelled in the Victorian-gothic style that so many Wizarding families seemed keen on. Spanning for what seemed like hundreds of meters in both width and depth, the Manor was fit to house a King for a lifetime, with enough space for a thousand servants and hundreds of guests. The light grey walls allowed the heavy, well-worn oak timbers that made up the doors and windows to stand out, whilst the grotesques that were perched underneath the overhanging roof kept a silent yet menacing vigil over the ancient families vast estate.

And it was in one of this houses' hundreds of rooms that one would find a young boy no older than eleven years old staring out across the great fields that surrounded his home with a disturbingly apathetic gaze that would strike fear into the hearts of any full-grown man or woman. His vibrant amethyst eyes were most certainly his most striking feature alongside his thick mop of jet-black hair that seemed to spike into the air at absolute random, with no sense of rhyme or reason. His face was smooth and aristocratic, and there was no denying that in a few years' time he would be breaking hearts and wooing women wherever he went.

And yet none of this could take away from the tenseness in his frame as he continued to stare out of the window. It was extremely subtle, but it was most certainly there if one knew where to look for it, and it was made more obvious by his slight, yet lithe build.

' _I can't believe that tomorrow is the day that I finally find out whether or not I'll be leaving her for god knows how long at a time.'_ The young boy thought to himself as he stared out of his window, whilst his thoughts drifted away back into the raging ocean that he called his thoughts. His earlier comments had been about his little sister, Lucy Potter. He and his baby sister had formed an almost inseparable bond over the years that they had been alive, and Harry James Potter would easily admit that the person he loved most in his family was his little sister. Others would try and say that they loved every member of their family equally, but Harry knew that it was not true. In the same way that he loved his little sister more than anyone (and she, him), Harry knew that his parents' true affections lay with their first born: twin sisters, Iris and Rose.

And to be honest, he couldn't blame his parents: they were smart, witty and regarded as the brightest witches of their generation. At thirteen, the two of them had spent a lot of time already at Hogwarts, and were eager to get their third year underway: and as a direct consequence were able to generate more interest from Harry's parents, much like his older brother, who was already regarded as a Quidditch prodigy in the making with the potential to eventually become a professional player.

And Harry was none of those.

He wasn't unbelievably clever like his sisters, but he was most certainly a genius. He was charming but he didn't make any real form of effort to work on it, so he was no-where near the level of his Sisters or brother. His skills in Quidditch were passable, but no-where near the levels of his brother, father or even his sisters, which ensured that he was thoroughly outclassed by his siblings whenever they played. In many ways, he could be considered your bog-standard, average child with no real skills or special talents when compared to the rest of his family.

And that's because his skills were not as _common_ as those found in his family.

From a very early age, Harry had always been of a more….. _violent_ and _manipulative_ disposition. He was easily able to turn the tables against his siblings when it came to dodging a punishment, whilst his more violent nature had almost lead to several all-out brawls between him and his older brother, Alexander. And the few times that any form of violence did erupt, Harry always seemed to swiftly gain the upper hand… as if such things were natural to him. He had a natural talent for fighting and tricking other people into believing what he wanted them to.

The trouble was that Harry knew his family would not take kindly to his unusual skill-set. Both of his parents bought into the pacifist ideology that was promoted by their former Headmaster from school, Albus Dumbledore. As such, his naturally aggressive and vindictive skills would hardly mesh with the ideas that they had for him: they wanted their children to follow in their footsteps, to fight only as a last resort and be honest and kind to those around them.

' _Ignorant idiots, the lot of them!'_ He thought to himself bitterly as he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the outside world. He didn't want to leave for 'Hogwarts School of Mage-craft', but unfortunately his parents were adamant that he attend the same school as his siblings.

Something about 'keeping the family together', or some other rubbish like that.

' _Yeah, because ignoring me is_ _ **really**_ _striving to keep the family together, isn't it?'_ Harry thought to himself bitterly as he continued to ponder the treatment that he had been subjected to over the past few years. His parents didn't outright ignore him, but they certainly didn't try to create any extra time to spend with their second youngest child, like they did the rest of the family.

He tried to gain their attention constantly, but when he did so, his siblings would always do something that would outshine his own accomplishment and therefore push him to the back of his parents minds. The first time he had truly reacted to all of this, he had been so angry about all of it that he had gone to the family's underground training area and practiced for several hours, venting all of his frustrations until he was both physically and magically exhausted. He would repeat this action for weeks on end, and would emerge after each session to only be greeted by his youngest and most treasured sibling.

However, eventually the rage began to subside, and Harry began to see his situation for what it really was: an inescapable blind-zone of notice. No matter what he did, he had come to accept that for as long as he tried to be like his sisters and brothers, he would always be outclassed by them. And so he decided to take a different path, not one of knowledge and not one of sports.

But that of fighting.

Henceforth, from the day when the red-mist finally cleared from Harry's mind, he had thrown himself into his family's library for hours at a time for weeks on end, hungrily devouring every last text he could find on fighting and various aspect of combat. Eventually, Harry came to realise that he seemed to have a certain attraction towards two rather conflicting styles: Destruction and Illusion magic.

Normally, a Mage would only practice one or two of the aforementioned styles in conjunction with a supporting magic style in order to complement their form of combat. However, Harry found that when applied together correctly, the two of them created an extremely dangerous combination that few people even several years his senior would be able to defeat. It was the combination that was going to take him to the pinnacle of the Supernatural world. There was no room for second place, no room for failure. His life was either going to be boring and monotonous, and he would die during the attempt to make himself famous by becoming the strongest mage alive….

Or he would eclipse the achievements of his family members and become the single most famous mage in all of existence.

He didn't know how he was going to do this, but all he knew was that it was his destiny to become the strongest there ever was, and that _nothing_ would stand in his way.

' _There's no room for failure or second place. It's all or bust: the pinnacle of the Supernatural world or the gutter of failures. And I refuse to be a part of that gutter!'_ The young man thought to himself decisively as he continued to stare out into the night-time sky, his eyes burning with the determination that few could ever hope to comprehend. It was the determination of someone who would never give up or give in; of a man who refused to understand what defeat meant, and would do anything to ensure his victory.

They were the eyes of Harry Potter, the fourth child of the current Potter family…..

The boy who would become a legend.

* * *

( _The next morning)_

Harry let out a tired yawn as he stretched his hands above his head, grunting in satisfaction as his spine unleashed several deep 'cracks'. He was currently clad in a surprisingly muggle outfit (given the Western Wizarding world's tendency to stick to old-fashioned robes and what not) that his mother had insisted each of her children be comfortable wearing, so that they wouldn't look silly should they ever take an excursion to the 'muggle' world.

Looking towards his door, the youngest male Potter let out a small sigh of resignation as he opened his door and began to traverse the winding corridors of his family's gargantuan home. He spared only a small glance towards the beautiful pieces of art and other such decorations that littered the room, ensuring that he did not break stride, and instead kept up his steady pace towards the informal dining room of the house, as it was where the Potter family took most of its meals due to the patriarch's rather laid back nature, and his wife's insistence that they not be cooped up in too many stuffy rooms whilst at home.

Eventually, he reached the main staircase of the entrance hall, a large and expansive area that was mostly comprised of the dominating staircase which split down either side of the room's walls, therefore creating not only a small balcony, but also leaving plenty of room for formal occasions and a rather grand oak door that would lead into the formal dining area. The two walls were again covered with art, but this time they were not randomly picked pieces that the Potter family had claimed over the years, but rather pictures of each head of the family, with the most recent addition being a picture of his father, which was currently sleeping.

The young 'Wizard' politely nodded a greeting to the paintings that were 'awake', so that he did not cause offence to any of his ancestors, even if they were not real. Harry never truly understood the reasoning behind animating paintings, especially those of family members who were now dead. It felt slightly creepy that the painting was, for all intents and purposes, actually that person: mannerisms and all. He didn't know the magic behind creating them, but all Harry knew was that he would never allow anyone to create a painting of him like this.

The thought alone made the youngest Potter male shiver slightly at the thought.

He was just about to cut through the dining room so that he could reach its informal equivalent and get something to eat, but before he could commence his journey to the doors, a small voice broke through the relative quiet of the entrance hall.

"Harry, wait up!"

Turning around, the youngest male Potter couldn't help but let a small smile grace his lips as he watched the owner of the voice race down the steps as fast as they could to greet him. Said person was a young girl no older than six or seven years of age. She had long, luscious brown hair that reached down to her mid back and her eyes were the exact same shade of violet as her elder brother's. She had a small, cute button nose and rosy red cheeks that emphasised her large smile as she raced towards her elder sibling.

Harry let out a small grunt when the girl collided with his stomach like a speeding bullet, forcing him to take a step backwards lest they both go tumbling to the ground. Once they were on a stable footing again, Harry couldn't help but laugh lightly and bend down ever so slightly as he reciprocated his youngest sibling's affections with a similar hug.

"Good morning to you too, Lucy. How are you today?" He asked softly, causing the girl's smile to widen immensely before dropping slightly as she buried her face into her brother's mid-section before replying.

"I'm happy…..but also sad at the same time." She replied softly, causing Harry to frown slightly. His sister's happiness was the single most important thing to him in the world alongside his own personal ambition, and as such it made him upset to think that she was unhappy about anything. And seeing as he had a good idea as to what it was that had made her so upset, Harry decided that it would be best to speak to her about it now, before she could cause a scene at the dinner table.

"What are you sad about, Lucy?" He asked her whilst gently un-prising her from around his waist, revealing that her eyes had gone slightly puffy and had already begun to glisten with unshed tears. The girl fixed her violet orbs onto Harry's own endless purple seas before she decided to answer her elder sibling's question.

"I don't want you to leave. You're….my favourite, big brother, and I don't want to be alone in the house. It's bad enough that the house is so big, but when you leave there won't be anyone here." Lucy had started off strong in her speech, but as her answer grew in length, the strength and conviction with which she spoke began to dwindle and die and was soon replaced with small sobs until she finally broke down in-front of her brother, who immediately dropped slightly to her height and swept her into a soft yet tight embrace. He stood there for a while, with his youngest and most precious sibling bawling her eyes out, gently whispering soothing words into her ear in an effort to slowly calm the upset little girl down a bit. Whilst he was doing this, his mind was racing at a million miles an hour, processing different thoughts.

' _Damn it, how the hell could I call myself a good big brother if I just leave Lucy here all by herself? I could ask mum or dad if I could be home-schooled for a year so that she's a little bit older and will take it better._

 _But I can't do that. I need to be at Hogwarts from the very start in order to ensure that my education is of the highest standard. Also, I need to be able to find at least one person within the staff body that will be willing to help me advance my fighting abilities; even if it's only in terms of the basics. Any sort of help would be appreciated, and I'd be a fool to turn down the opportunity Hogwarts represents as a resource._

 _And besides, Lucy's only got to wait four more years and then she'll be at the school as well with Uncle Sirius' kid. And even then, she'll still have me around for three years whilst she's there, so it's not the end of the world.'_

Having let his thoughts run their course, the young boy turned his attention to his younger sister, who had calmed down to the point that she was only softly sniffling. Breaking his embrace, Harry gently took Lucy by the shoulders and held her at arm's length before he began to speak to her.

"Lucy, you know I don't want to leave either, but sometimes we have to do things we don't want, for the good of all. Me leaving to go to Hogwarts may hurt you now, but in the long run it's for the best: if I don't go I wouldn't be able to control my magic properly and I wouldn't make any new friends.

I know it seems cruel and unfair, but in the end all you have to remember is that I will come back at Christmas and in the Summer, and I'll spend as much time as I can with you." He said gently yet with enough force that his sister would know it would be fruitless to argue against him. Gently sniffing, the girl wiped her eyes before nodding her head in agreement, earning a small smile from Harry who cocked his head towards the doors that he had originally been heading towards in the first place.

"Now enough about all of this. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry; and I'm pretty certain that mum said she would be making pancakes today~!" Harry finished in a sing-song voice that earned a giggle from his little sister, whose eyes seemed to have turned into stars at the mention of pancakes. Grabbing hold of her brother's hand, the young girl began to drag Harry towards the dining room. However, before they set off, Harry caught sight of something on his little sister's forehead that caused him to almost snarl in anger.

For on his sister's forehead was a small angry-red scar, shaped like a lightning bolt falling from the skies, as if Zeus himself had cast iy from the heavens. It was famous throughout the entirety of the Wizarding world as the mark left on the defeater of Wizarding Britain's greatest foe. A runic scar that nobody had ever been able to explain, even six years after the event.

It was the last mark of Lord Voldemort, the scar that marked his sister as 'The Girl Who Lived'.

The rest of the family had been out of the house at the time at some official Ministry function, which had been thrown in an attempt to alleviate the stress of the on-going war and remind people that victory was actually closer than they realised. Harry, his sister and their baby sitter, James Potter's mother, had been the only people in the house at Godric's Hollow at the time. A family friend, Peter Pettigrew, had sold out the location of the youngest Potter children to the Dark Lord who sought to kill Lucy for reasons that all but (out of the children in the Family) Harry's eldest sisters were not privy to.

He knew that something happened that day, but he still had no clue as to the specifics even though he was there. Past his grandmother's orders to run, Harry couldn't remember a damned thing; and it infuriated him to no end. He wanted to remember so that he could find out if the Dark lord had let anything slip as to why he was attempting to kill his sister. But every time he tried to remember, his head began to pound ferociously, as if someone had hit him over the head with a cricket bat. He hadn't given up hope yet of reaching the information, but he also accepted that he may well never remember what happened.

' _Either way it doesn't really matter in the end. The evil git is dead and that's all that matters; and as long as he stays that way, I couldn't care if he told me the secret for immortality itself. As long as there's nothing that threatens my sister in there, I couldn't care less for what he had to say.'_ Harry thought to himself resolutely. He was about to drift into another line of thought, specifically pertaining to his upcoming year at school, but before he could drift too far into his thoughts, another voice snapped him out of the ocean that was his mind.

"Good morning Harry and my little Lucy. How are you both today?"

Shaking his head slightly, Harry refocused his gaze into the world of the living. He found his violet orbs greeted by the sight of the rest of his family, sat down at the table enjoying breakfast.

The first two people he noticed were his elder sisters, Iris and Rose, who were both sat there chatting away about something mundane. In terms of facial structure and body type, they were both very similar; soft features and pale complexions in conjunction with their developing bodies indicated that they would both be beauties when they finally matured fully. However, whereas Rose had long red hair which reached the middle of her back (which was the source of her namesake), Iris had much shorter black hair, which she did not allow to pass past her shoulders. Their eyes were also of completely different colours: Iris had inherited their mother's shocking green eyes, whilst Rose had somehow managed to get stuck with their father's blazing brown orbs.

The next two people were easily identifiable as father and son: the elder of the two had black hair and brown eyes and a strong, defined face that was arguably 'ruggedly handsome'. His build appeared to be slightly more stocky by nature than Harry, much like his eldest son, who had also taken after their father in terms of his build.

In fact, had one not known any better, they could easily be forgiven for mistaking the younger of the two for a 'mini-me' of the elder man. These two were James and Alexander Potter, Harry's father and brother respectively. However, it was neither of these two who called out to Harry and Lucy when they entered the room: no that was done by none-other than Harry's mother.

Lily Potter (nee Evans) was a kind and wonderful woman who was easily recognisable thanks to her shocking red hair which one of her three daughter had inherited. Her figure was full and curvy, but only moderately so, and yet you could not imagine her looking any different. Her green eyes were enhanced by the softness of her facial features and therefore served to only enhance her natural beauty. She wasn't the most gorgeous of witches, but her natural charm and wonderful demeanour easily compensated for anything that a person may find _lacking_ in terms of her physical appeal. Her rouged lips were curled into a warm smile as she tried to open up a line of conversation with her youngest son.

' _Smile back and be polite. You still love her, but don't let your love cloud how she and everyone else save Lucy have treated you over the past couple of years.'_ Harry thought to himself quickly before forcing a small smile onto his lips whilst replying alongside his sister to his mother's greeting. Settling down into a chair, Harry couldn't help but chuckle lightly as Lucy climbed into the seat next to him, which was fortunately between himself and his twelve year old brother. He himself had turned eleven about two weeks ago, and had expected his acceptance letter then; but he has been slightly dismayed to find out that all letters were sent out on the 31st June.

Sighing slightly, Harry quickly set about pouring himself and his little sister a glass of orange juice before his eldest sister, Iris, decided to speak up.

"So Harry, can you believe the big day is finally here?" She asked with a small grin, earning a non-committal shrug from her aforementioned sibling.

"About as excited as one can be about it all, I suppose." He replied blandly, earning an almost unnoticeable frown from Iris, but a small snort of amusement from Alex and Rose, the former of whom decided to take Harry's words as an opportunity to tease him a little bit.

"Aw~, is little Harrykins worried about leaving mummy and daddy alone for nine months?"

"Don't worry, big sister Rosy will take care of you~! Ignore that mean brother of yours and come sit with me!" Rose cut in, earning an annoyed scowl from Alex and a hearty chuckle from all those sat at the table, apart from Harry who merely smiled thinly at his sisters apparent attempt at 'comforting' him.

"I'm comfortable here, thanks." He replied neutrally, earning a soft pout from his elder sister. But when she realised that Harry wasn't paying her any attention, she decided to turn back to her earlier conversation with her twin sister. Harry muttered a quick thanks when his mother placed a plate full of pancakes onto the table in-front of him, but before he could dig into them, he found his vision obscured by a thick and heavy-looking envelope. Leaning back slightly, the youngest Potter male looked up to see his mother's smiling face beaming down at him.

"Did you honestly think that I would let you start eating without reading your acceptance letter first?" She asked cheerily, earning a small sigh from Harry as he slowly took the rough parchment from his mothers' hand.

' _No, but I did pray that you would at least let me have some of this food.'_ He thought to himself in a mildly annoyed state of mind. Flipping the letter over and paying no heed to the address scrawled onto the front, Harry broke the wax seal on the back and immediately began reading his letter, whilst idly noting his elder siblings doing the same with their respective year's equipment lists.

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

After reading the first few lines, Harry couldn't help but shake his head slightly. How on earth Albus Dumbledore thought that putting _all_ of his titles in the first few lines of a letter didn't make him seem pretentious was beyond him. However, he also knew that trying to explain anything that the man did was like trying to contain a hurricane or other such natural phenomenon; it was downright impossible.

So shaking his head again, Harry continued to read.

 _Dear Mr Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on 1 September (or when you happen to register). We await your owl by no Later than the 31st of July._

 _Yours Sincerely_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

Putting the letter to the side, Harry quickly delved back into the envelope and eventually his hand re-emerged from within, dragging with it another piece of parchment which Harry knew would contain his equipment list. Unfolding the piece of parchment, Harry continued his boring trek through the hand-scrawled notes until he reached the end.

 _HOWGARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

 _Uniform_

 _First year students will require:_

 _Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

 _One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

 _One pair of protective gloves (Drake hide or similar)_

 _One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

 _Please not that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

 _Set Books_

 _All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

 _A beginner's guide to magical circles and their theory by Jensen Eldergleam_

 _A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

 _Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

 _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

 _Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

 _Other Equipment_

 _1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

 _1 set glass or crystal phials_

 _1 telescope_

 _1 set brass scales_

 _Students may also bring an owl, cat or toad_

 _PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

' _We live in the twenty first century, you'd think that they would write these out on a computer or something. It's not like ambient magic affects technology anymore, so why the hell people insist on doing things this way is beyond me.'_ Harry thought to himself exasperatedly as he placed the second piece of paper down and turned his attention back to his food. He sat there in peaceful silence with the rest of his family for a while before his father finally addressed him directly.

"So Harry, any class in particular that you're looking forward to?" He asked casually, earning a slightly raised eyebrow from said child. Harry paused his eating for several moments, as if contemplating his choice before nodding his head and providing his answer.

"Probably Defence if I'm honest. If there was still a duelling club then I'd say that overrides everything, but with the Headmaster's choice to get rid of it, I'll have to settle with the classroom equivalent." Harry replied, earning a small nod and a blinding smile from his father.

"Good choice that, apparently the teacher is solid this year. If you still need a club to join when you get there, then just join a club where nobody will care if you don't turn up. Because then next year, you'll be able to join the Quidditch team with zero fuss and start making a name for yourself amongst the ladies- ow, what the hell Lily?" The Potter patriarchs speech had started off well enough, but the moment he strayed into talking about women, his wife decided to nip the issue in the bud by waking him over the back of the head with her hand and offering her personal opinion on the matter.

"Don't you dare try and corrupt my baby boy with any of that nonsense. He's got plenty of time for girls when he's older!" She stated sternly, earning several rapid nods of the head from James Potter as he sought to avoid his wife's wrath. He may have fought against Death-Eaters and the Dark Lord himself without an ounce of fear in his bones, but his wife put the fear of god into him and was easily thirty times scarier than the former Dark lord, in his humble and (not) whipped opinion.

Smiling brightly at her husband's change in tune, Lily was about to take her plate up to wash it before a look passed across her face and she turned her attention to Alex.

"Oh yeah, by the way Alex do you guy need any new Quidditch gear when we go shopping? Same for you Iris, Rosy, do you guys need any more advanced textbooks for your studies with Professor Flitwick or anything like that?" She asked brightly, and immediately the conversation switched from Harry to his siblings. He knew it was petty, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as his parents began to simply lavish the praise onto his elder siblings. He knew deep down that it was parents natural instinct to want to praise their children, but he couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed. After all, today was supposed to be his big day, with the attention focused mostly on him.

' _Ad yet again, I've managed to slip through the cracks. God why do I have to still love these idiots? It would be so much easier if I could just hate them for the way they act and then leave them to their lives._

 _Ahhhhh screw it, I'm going to go get changed.'_

And with that, the youngest Potter male slipped out of the dining room/kitchen without anyone noticing, except for a pair of green eyes that were boring into his back as he fled the room, with the two individuals having two different closing thoughts…..

' _One day they'll treat me like they do them'_

' _Where's Harry going?'_

* * *

 _(Kings-Cross Station, Platform 9 ¾ , 1_ _st_ _September 2007, 10:55 AM)_

"Jeez, do you think the Headmaster might have a slight bias to Gryffindor?" Harry asked nobody in particular as he took in the horrific red and gold monstrosity that was the Hogwarts Express. He, like most other who grew up in the Wizarding world, knew that Albus Dumbledore had been a Gryffindor during his time at Hogwarts, hence most people's desire to join the house of the Lions. It infuriated him to no end whatsoever, that people would try to join a house simply because someone famous went there, or because it was where their parents went.

' _We're all different in some way, even when we look like carbon-copies of our parents or siblings. Just like me.'_ Harry thought to himself before having his attention snatched away from the red and gold coloured steam engine and forced onto his brother.

"Of course he is, it is the best house after all!" Alex proclaimed proudly, earning faint eye roles from Iris, Rosy and their mother, whilst eliciting a roar of approval from James Potter. Harry couldn't help but allow the ever so slight sneer that formed on his to remain in place whilst he replied to his brother's words.

"No house is superior to the others, they all hold equal importance. Just because each house favours different attributes, it doesn't mean that that any one of them is of less importance." Harry replied tersely, earning a slightly shocked look from his elder brother, and an approving smile from the elder females in his family.

"That's right Harry. Don't let the House prejudices cloud your decision making, and certainly don't let it stop you from making friends outside of whatever House you join." Harry's mother said happily, with several cheers of support coming from his sisters and a moan of dissent coming from his elder brother and his father. The youngest male Potter merely shook his head before accepting the small hugs from his parents before boarding the train with his siblings. Normally, Sirius, his wife and Remus would have been there to see them off, but the former was busy with his job (as was his wife) that day and the latter was out of the country, apparently visiting Kyoto in Japan.

Harry quickly parted from his siblings, saying that he didn't want to intrude on their lives and that he wanted to see if he couldn't find children his own age to sit with. He spent several minutes travelling down the train, and couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief when he finally came across and empty carriage compartment. Sliding open the door, the young Potter heir pulled his hefty trunk into the room before closing the door and casting his eyes at the trunk.

Holding out his hand, a small magic circle formed underneath the trunk before a faint white outline encompassed the trunk and the circle faded away, with the actual circle disappearing before its accompanied runic arrays and script. Motioning with his hand, the young man gently levitated the box into the air before finally settling it into the overhead rack

The levitation spell, also known as _Wingardium Leviosa_ , was a very simple spell that fell under into the first year syllabus, along with many other laughably easy spells. Any mage could quickly learn these spells if they applied themselves to it fully enough, hence Harry's ease in using the spell. Of course, it also had a lot, lot more potential roles than just being a means to 'levitate' objects from one location to another, but they were not taught on the curriculum as these 'alternative' uses fell into the territory of 'Defence'.

Sighing to himself, Harry turned his gaze to the window and began to occupy himself with thoughts pertaining to his life at school and what he needed to do in order to succeed, whilst entertaining his sense of sight with the English countryside as it flew past at incredible speeds.

The young man sat there for what seemed like an age, his eyes glazed over as he continued to try and occupy his time until he reached the school. However, the door to his compartment did eventually open, causing the young man to snap out of his daze and turn his attention to the door.

Stood there was a young boy the same age as Harry, with overly-gelled blond hair that seemed to stick to his scalp and a slightly thinner than average build, much like Harry. His skin was as white as fallen snow, and the way in which he carried himself simply screamed ' _pureblood'_. From the hair alone, Harry would have guessed that the boy had to be related to the Malfoy family somehow, and received conformation when the young man spoke up to him.

"Forgive the intrusion. My name is Draco Malfoy, heir apparent to the Ancient and Most noble house of Malfoy, and I was wondering if you would allow me to sit with you in here, seeing as everywhere else is rather full. And I really don't want to have to cross into another carriage, it's a nightmare with these things." He said, gesturing to the case behind him.

His words were spoken with a strong tone that befitted his status as the heir to an ancient and noble house. Much in the same way that the Devils had the 72 Pillars, most wizarding communities had their own aristocrats, often known as 'Ancient and Noble Houses'. They were often the major powerhouses on the political scene and tended to produce the best mages of the Supernatural world, in the same way Pillar houses produced the strongest Devils, if ancient textbooks were to be believed on the subject. Smiling lightly at the boy, Harry gestured for him to join him whilst offering a verbal response.

"My name is Harry Potter, of the Ancient and Most Noble house of Potter, and I wouldn't mind if you joined me at all, Heir Malfoy." He replied in the same manner as the boy. He hated being so formal and stuck up, but the trouble was in their society that some people may take offence to an unofficial introduction if you knew how to give an official one. It annoyed Harry to no end, but ultimately it was worth it just to avoid the potential fallout of _not_ doing it properly.

The Malfoy heir looked slightly surprised by Harry's comment before he allowed a tiny smirk to grace his features as he repeated the same steps as Harry had upon entering the compartment, whilst also offering more words to his fellow compartment dweller.

"Well now that crap is out of the way, would you mind calling me just Malfoy or even Draco? Heir Malfoy makes me feel like a little bit of an ass."

Harry sat the shocked for several seconds, slightly stunned that a _Malfoy_ of all people would act so casually about addressing him. However, he knew not to paint everybody with the same brush when it came to such matters, and as such decided to reflect briefly on what the boy had said, before deciding that if he wanted to have at least one solid friend before he entered the school, he may as well make an effort to appear friendly towards the young Malfoy.

"Not at all Draco, but only if you call me Harry."

The boy's smirk turned into a full-blown grin as he slumped down into the seat opposite Harry and let out a small sigh of content.

"No problem, Harry."

* * *

(A couple of hours later)

"Oh for the love of all that's divine, how the hell do you keep beating me?" An annoyed Draco exclaimed comically as he was once again easily crushed by a smirking Harry in a game of Wizarding chess. The boy had fallen into yet another one of Harry's brilliant traps; the young Malfoy heir had become overconfident when Harry lost his knights, a rook and bishop, and as such had failed to see the danger that Harry's Queen and Pawns were posing his King until it was too late.

Harry let out a chuckle at his companion's exasperation idly noting that whilst the boys did have some talent in strategy, he was nowhere near the level of Harry. The youngest Potter male was about to respond to his friend, but before he could the door to their compartment opened up to reveal a girl of their age. She had a cute face that was most defined by her orange-ish coloured hair and her gorgeous yellow-green eyes. She was wearing a pink jacket and white shirt along with some jeans and ballerina flats, with her large suitcase behind her. Harry managed to keep his face calm, but he couldn't help but let one stray thought cross hid mind as he offered the girl a small smile.

' _She's so pretty!'_

Unbeknownst to Harry, a tiny blush had made its way onto the girls face at his reaction. However, before either of them could comment on the situation, Draco stepped in and rescued the two eleven year-olds from a cripplingly embarrassing scene.

"Hello there, my name is Draco Malfoy, and that raven haired git ("Oi!") is Harry Potter. Who may you be?" He asked politely but firmly, indicating that he wouldn't be happy until he got an answer. The girl shook her head slightly at his question before allowing a nearly blinding smile to grace her lips as she replied to the young Malfoy's words.

"Of course, please forgive me! My name is Shirley Fennette, and I'm a muggleborn first-year. What about you two, are you muggleborns?" She asked cheerily, earning a slight sweat-drop from Draco and Harry at her sudden change in demeanour.

' _Talk about a one-eighty switch.'_

"No, we both grew-up in the wizarding world in Ancient and Most noble houses." Harry supplied calmly, causing the girl to freeze up for several seconds, as if she were petrified that she had offended two members of the 'Nobility' of Wizarding Britain. Just as she appeared ready to offer an apology and bolt, Draco cast a levitation spell on her trunk and placed it in the rack above his head.

"Don't think that doesn't mean we won't allow you to sit with us, Miss Fennette. We are all humans after all, so please make yourself comfortable in here." He said with a small smile on his pale lips, causing the girl to smile softly at him before sitting down on the same side of the carriage as Harry.

"Thanks. I got kicked out of my first carriage by the prefects who wanted to use it as a meeting room, and then some people were rude to me when I asked if I could sit with them. They said I couldn't because I was a mud-blood or something like that." She finished the last part hesitantly, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was saying. Harry's eyes narrowed and Draco visibly stiffened at the word. When Shirley asked them what was wrong, the two of them decided to gently explain the insult to the poor young mage, who appeared hurt by the implications of the term. But she soon brushed it off in favour of a small grin that caused the two boys to raise their eyebrows. When the two of them had asked her as to why she was smiling, the girl's smile widened as she replied.

"I'm glad I met nice people to make friends with instead of those people." She said primly, earning a small snort of laughter from Draco and a smile from Harry before the three of them fell into a comfortable discussion about what they thought Hogwarts was going to be like… and all the while Harry couldn't help but think one thing as he glanced at the two other people in his compartment.

' _These guys look like they're going to be great friends later on.'_

* * *

( _Hogwarts school of Magecraft, Main Hall, 7:30 PM)_

"Bloody hell, do you think they could make this place any bigger if they tried?" Harry heard someone whisper from behind him, and the young man couldn't help but nod slightly in agreement at their words.

The room that the new first-years found themselves in was absolutely gargantuan, stretching some twenty to twenty five meters into the air. The roof had been charmed to represent the night sky outside, revealing the endless expanse of stars and planets to the students, causing many of them to gape at the sheer majesty of the cosmos. Harry idly noted someone explaining the charm to someone else, but he paid it no mind in exchange for continuing his observations of the room. He idly noted that running almost the entire length of the room, positioned equidistant from each-other, were four gorgeous tables made of very heavy oak. These tables were quite tightly packed by a huge number of students, each vying to catch a glimpse of the newcomers in an effort to try and figure out who would go where. In fact, he was almost certain that he saw money changing hands between several of the students, causing his eyebrow to twitch in annoyance slightly.

' _Bollocks, I hate missing out on a bet.'_ He thought to himself in an annoyed tone of thought.

Eventually, he managed to snap himself out of his deep-rooted annoyance and focus back onto the surrounding world. Dangling above the four tables were four very distinctive banners. Running from left to right they the first two were: A snake curled up and ready to attack emblazoned in silver onto a green background, and a Raven sitting on a branch emblazoned in bronze on a blue background. They were the flags of Slytherin and Ravenclaw respectively, whilst the Badger raised onto its hind legs in orange and brown and the Lion roaring to the sky in gold and red were the respective emblems for Hufflepuff and Gryffindor House. Each table was a sea of either silver, blue, brown or red trimmed robes that made Harry's eyes water slightly.

With the exception of Slytherin, the great-hall was awash with a sea of ghastly colours that honestly caused Harry to cringe slightly.

' _Whoever designed those bloody uniforms needs to be killed, for the good of all existence.'_ He thought darkly to himself, before having his attention snatched away from his homicidal thoughts, and instead focused onto the events now transpiring ahead of him.

The old and extremely stern looking woman that had led the first years into the hall strode towards the middle of the raised section of the floor, carrying a rickety old stool and a worn out looking hat. She wore a set of dark green and black robes that one would expect of a 'witch' of her age. Her amber-coloured eyes were hidden behind a pair of circular-lensed glasses whilst her hair seemed to have been drawn into a tight bun atop her head. She stood only stood at roughly 5'6, and yet she managed to maintain an intimidating aura that, had Harry not been exposed to his mother's wrath, would have scared even him.

This was Minerva McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts and a well-respected academic figure in the Supernatural world. She was deeply respected by all the elder members of Harry's family as a strict but fair woman who did not play favourites with anyone; unless you believed Harry's father's claims that he was her 'favourite student', even now.

He watched with interest as the Headmistress placed the stool onto the floor before stepping back and placing the battered hat onto the stool. The action caused many of the new students to frown, but before Harry or any of them could begin to question her actions, a faint ' _ripping'_ sound was heard as a tear made itself known near the brim of the hat, whilst the material roughly two-thirds of the way up the of the hat's point bent inwards and became 'eyes'….

And then it started to _sing._

 _"A thousand years or more ago  
When I was newly sewn,  
There lived four wizards of renown,  
Whose names are still well known:_

 _Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,_  
 _Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,_  
 _Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,_  
 _Shrewd Slytherin, from fen._

 _They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,_  
 _They hatched a daring plan_  
 _To educate young sorcerers_  
 _Thus Hogwarts School began._

 _Now each of these four founders  
Formed their own house, for each  
Did value different virtues  
In the ones they had to teach._

 _By Gryffindor, the bravest were_  
 _Prized far beyond the rest;_  
 _For Ravenclaw, the cleverest_  
 _Would always be the best;_

 _For Hufflepuff, hard workers were_  
 _Most worthy of admission;_  
 _And power-hungry Slytherin_  
 _Loved those of great ambition._

 _While still alive they did divide_

 _Their favourites from the throng,  
Yet how to pick the worthy ones  
When they were dead and gone?_

 _Twas Gryffindor who found the way,_  
 _He whipped me off his head_  
 _The founders put some brains in me_  
 _So I could choose instead!_

 _Now slip me snug about your ears,_  
 _I've never yet been wrong,_  
 _I'll have a look inside your mind_

 _And tell you where you belong!"_

Harry stood there with wide eyes like the rest of his year group, staring at the hat in utter disbelief as it bowed its point to each of the four houses, which were offering it polite applause. Eventually, once the applause had died down, McGonagall began to speak.

"When I call out your name, please step forwards and sit on the stool, and I will place the sorting hat on your head, which will then determine which House you shall be in.

Abbot, Hannah!"

Harry shook his head quickly enough to catch sight of a young girl quickly yet nervously scampering up to the stool and placing the hat on her head. She was sat there for less than a minute before the hat bellowed out its decision to the rest of the school.

" _HUFFLEPUFF!"_

The youngest Potter barely paid the cheering house and the ecstatic girl in favour of focusing his gaze onto the table that rested just beyond the stool, where the school's staff sat.

On the right hand side of the table were sat various teachers who Harry did not bother to pay too much attention to, idly noting the huge presence of Hagrid next to one of the three people he considered worth giving any attention, aside from the Headmaster. He was an absolutely diminutive man, possibly standing even shorter than Harry when on his feet; his long hooked nose and ever so slightly clawed hands, along with is white hair and kind smile easily allowed Harry to identify the man as Filius Flitwick, charms/ enchantments master and teacher at Hogwarts, as well as head of Ravenclaw house. He was apparently a duelling champion is his hay-day, and as such one of a few people Harry considered worth asking about receiving an advanced education in combat.

However, the man was also rather close to his mother, and as such he may say something about her son asking to learn how to fight properly at such a young age, and that was something he could do without. The trouble was that a similar issue was also prevalent with his second choice on the list; Severus Snape.

The man who was often referred to as the 'Bat of Hogwarts Dungeons' was an incredibly pale and tall man, standing at an imposing 6'2. His long hooked nose and beady black eyes provided him with a terrifying aura that caused students to cower in fear rather than submit in respect to him. He was a world-renowned potions master and the head of Slytherin, and was notoriously biased towards his own house, which (according to many people) was why his House had won the 'House cup' two years in a row. He had also acted as a spy for Dumbledore's 'Order of the Phoenix' during the civil war, and was also famous for his aggressive, calculating and ruthless fighting skills that allowed him to fight against foes who possessed far more raw power than he did.

But like with Flitwick, the man was close to his mother (having been a childhood friend of hers) and had somehow managed to become at least cordial with his father, despite their less than friendly teenage years.

Harry was about to focus onto the third and possibly best candidate to speak to in regards to advancing his magical studies, but before he could, he found his attention diverted by the name that McGonagall had just called out.

"Fenette, Shirley!"

The second youngest Potter watched in interest as the girl he had shared the majority of his train-ride with bounced towards the chair with barely contained excitement. Harry had learnt early on in his interactions with the girl that Shirley was a cheerful and generally happy person who seemed capable of banishing a person's foul mood with just her infectious smile and bubbly nature. He had genuinely enjoyed her company on the train, as she was not only a genuinely nice person, but she was also remarkably intelligent and possessed a natural drive to learn things, as emphasised by her detailed questions about Wizarding society not only in Britain but also elsewhere. It made for entertaining conversation, and ensured that Harry would make an effort to speak to her as soon as he was able to.

Smiling to himself, Harry pulled his attention away from his thoughts just in time to hear the hat's decision.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The decision didn't really surprise Harry. Whilst Shirley may have had the intellect and passion for knowledge found amongst even the best of the House of Ravens, her natural kindness and empathy towards others simply trampled all of her other attributes underfoot. And considering her words back on the train, it wouldn't surprise Harry if the girl had one hell of a fierce loyalty streak in her: she simply seemed to be the type.

Clapping politely along with the rest of the school, Harry couldn't help but give the girl a rare small, yet genuine, smile when she settled her gaze on Harry. The girl beamed back and gave him a small wave before sitting down with two girls that were in her year.

Turning his attention away from the young Fennette, Harry found his eyes wondering until he finally came across the third person on his list of candidates that he could potentially snag as a teacher. The man in question appeared to be roughly five or so years younger than his parents, and had a rather plain looking face that was only made memorable by the three large scars that ran down the right-hand-side of his face that had been clearly inflicted by some animal's claws. His head was covered by a turban, but the lack of any form of facial hair whatsoever and the lack of any form of hair coming down the side of his head suggested that the man was bald. His figure was slight yet obviously packed with muscles, as indicated by the tight-fitting dark crimson and purple combat robes and leather armour he wore. His eyes were casually glancing around the room, but Harry could tell that they were actually scanning for any threats to his person. The man was a fighter, as clear as day, and the only person Harry felt he had a reliable chance of learning anything from.

Quirinus Quirrel.

He was a renowned mercenary who had made his name hunting anything and everything for the right price: be they wanted wizards or stray Devils. Nothing seemed to be too tough for the man to fight against. And recently, he had accepted a contract to take over the 'Defence' class at the school, to the welcome surprise of many people.

' _And judging on looks alone, I'd say he'd be quite happy to take on somebody as an apprentice.'_ Harry thought to himself as the man seemed to sigh before diverting his attention away from the crowds and back to the stool, with Harry promptly following his lead. The young Potter made mental notes as several names were called out, filling the information away for future use. Eventually, the name of his second friend was called out by the commanding voice of Professor McGonagall.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

The young Malfoy heir strode towards the sorting hat with an air of calm and a natural grace that was only befitting of a trained nobleman. His method of sitting down was similar, and he even managed to pull the hat onto his over-gelled head with a certain level of dignity. The hat was there for all of twenty seconds before it delivered the announcement that Harry had expected.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Aforementioned House clapped slightly louder than the rest as the young Malfoy heir quickly removed the hat from his head and began striding towards his new housemates, whilst his plain black robe took on a silver trim and his blank emblem space was filled with the serpent of Salazar, much in the same way Shirley's robes had adopted a yellow trim and the badger of Helga. The sorting then continued, with Harry repeating the same process as he had with the group before him, making a mental note of their names and Houses for future reference. Eventually, after several tiresome minutes of waiting, his turn to be sorted finally came about.

"Potter, Harry!"

The moment his name was called out, Harry had to actively fight the urge to snarl at the masses of students on either side of him as he began his advance towards the hat and stool. His irritation stemmed from the various inane and hurtful comments that had stemmed from his relationship with his elder and younger siblings.

"Wait, you don't think he's related to Iris and Rose do you?"

"Of course he is, Potter's a pretty damn exclusive surname in the Wizarding world!"

"I bet he isn't as smart as his sisters, they seemed to have gotten all the brains."

"Duh, that's why they're in Ravenclaw."

"I know."

"Shit, another Potter. I hope he's no good at Quidditch, we could do without another seeker prodigy joining any of the teams, otherwise there won't be a point in having any other positions."

" _I didn't even know there was another Potter kid except for Lucy."_

Of all the comments that Harry heard, the last one angered him the most. He knew he was invisible to his parents from time to time, but to think that nobody at the school apart from his family seemed to know he existed just pissed him off.

It was bad enough that he was largely overlooked when he was at home, and now he was just being tarred with the same brush his family seemed keen to stick him with, and it was _infuriating_ for the young man.

' _I'm my own person, when the hell is anybody going to frickin' realise that and start treating me as Harry Potter, a person in his own right. And not just Harry Potter, elder brother to the girl-who-lived and younger brother of the Potter houses' famous prodigies?'_ Harry thought to himself with barely restrained anger. His magic was fluctuating slightly, begging for the chance to be put to use and show these people that there was more to Harry than what they thought of him. However, he also realised that it would bring unwanted attention and could land him in deep trouble; so he reigned in his magic….. without noticing three sets of eyes following him with keen interest as he finally reached the stool.

The moment he felt his rear touch the stool, Harry engulfed his eyesight with the brim of the hat. He felt calm and ready. Ready to take on whatever would be necessary to gain entry into one of the four houses. He didn't care if it was a quiz or a test of character, he would prove his true nature and start his journey towards the pinnacle of the Supernatural world ….. no matter what the test was.

' _My, my Occlumency shields at such a young age mister Potter? And of such a high quality as well, I must say that you've impressed me quite a bit young man.'_

That was until he heard the voice of the hat in his head.

Harry sat there completely stupefied for several seconds, unable to form a coherent thought until he finally managed to respond in a rather similar matter to those who had gone before him.

'WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING INSIDE MY HEAD? HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET IN HERE?' Harry mentally screamed, idly noting the thumbs up from his two older sisters and the friendly smile of his older brother. They were obviously teasing him with regards to what was happening, but the young Potter was too focused on the booming laughter of the hat to really pay them too much attention.

' _Hahahaha, I must say that I haven't had a response like this in quite some time young Potter; you certainly have picked up that wonderful vocabulary from your father's friends. However, I will just let you know now that I will not reveal any personal secret you may harbour; I am bound by the magic of the founders' themselves to never reveal what I learn. I may make comments about your character out loud, but nothing that could ever compromise what is within you mind._

 _Each person's mind is sacred in its own right, and I treat it as such.'_ By the end of the hats mini speech, Harry's breathing had steadied and the hat's tone had switched from jovial to serious, clearly indicating that he was being truthful about the matter. Taking several more calming breaths, Harry relaxed his posture and gently nodded his head.

'Then do what you need to, Hat.'

* * *

 _(With Draco)_

"I never realised that there was another Potter."

"Of course there is Tracey; do you even pay attention at official functions?"

"Is that a serious question, Daphne?"

Draco couldn't help but sigh slightly as the two girls opposite him continued to talk in hushed whispers about his newest acquaintance. He was currently paying them little mind as he kept his grey eyes focused on the slight oddity that was Harry Potter. Normally, a person would either grovel at Draco's feet when they found out his surname or they would vilify him because of his startling physical similarity with his father. It annoyed him and saddened him beyond belief. He wanted people to be friends with him because of _who_ he was, not because of what his family _name_ was: and the trouble was that the only people who tended to speak to him cordially were those who wanted to 'get in' with the Malfoy name, and held similar belief's to his father.

The rest simply spurned him because of his father's actions, simply tarring him with the same brush as his father: a mini Death-Eater and blood purist in the making. In truth, he didn't really want anything to do with his father. He was a cold and cruel man who enjoyed causing others pain, and frequently ran off with other women as his mother was not 'satisfying enough'. It made the young Malfoy heir feel so alone and isolated that sometimes he just wanted to scream and let out all the anger…. but the trouble was that nobody would be there to hear out his anguish.

' _But now things are looking different.'_ Draco thought to himself with the faintest of mental smirks. Harry Potter was nothing like he expected him to be: he anticipated a boy who had been taught to keep away from the children of former Death Eaters, and stick to only 'lighter' families or muggleborns for company. Instead, the boy behaved every single part the quintessential aristocrat expected from an ancient and noble house: and when he had found out who Draco was, he had still stayed with him and talked to him like a normal person. It was a refreshing change that Draco was looking forward to expanding upon in the coming weeks and months, especially if the boy didn't believe in House prejudices like some people did.

' _Maybe life here won't be so bad after all.'_

* * *

 _(With Shirley) _

"He's taking a long time, isn't he?"

Turning her head, Shirley was greeted by the slightly confused face of one Susan Bones, a pretty red-head who was the niece of the current Director of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE for short). Shirley cocked an eyebrow lightly at the girl's statement before turning her attention back to her newest friend as he continued to sit on the stool, hat firmly placed around his ears.

"Harry's a diverse guy, I'm not surprised that its taking him this long to be sorted." The young Fennette commented softly, earning slightly shocked looks from those who sat around her.

"Wait, did you ride the train here with him?" Hannah Abbot asked curiously, her blond curly hair glinting ever so slightly in the candle light. Shirley nodded her head before a bright smile appeared on her face as she enthusiastically yet quietly replied to the girls' question.

"I sure did! He's really clever and kind, although he doesn't like to talkmuch. He's a lot like a quieter and smarter version of Draco –"

"Wait, you rode here with a _Malfoy_?" One of the boys in her year, a slightly ugly and heavy-set looking boy by the name of Ernie Macmillan asked with a small sneer on his face which was supported by several other students from their year and other years. Shirley cocked her head to the side as she replied in a slightly confused tone of voice.

"Well yeah, he and Harry were in the same carriage and –" Her answer was cut off by the troll-like boy laughing at her answer, causing Shirley to frown slightly in anger at how rude he was.

"Yeah right, as if the child of a light-sided family like the Potters would _ever_ associate themselves with a filthy dark family like the Malfoy's." He sneered, earning several chuckles of approval. Shirley's frown grew and she went to reply, but before she could a rather familiar baritone voice cut through the relative silence that had engulfed the Hall.

"Can I help you with something, Minerva?"

* * *

(Back with Harry)

Casting his eyes to the side, Harry was slightly surprised to catch sight of a scowling McGonagall staring at the hat as if hoping that the damned thing would catch on fire if she kept glaring hard enough. Eventually, after several slightly awkward seconds, the revered Transfiguration mistress finally broke the silence between herself and the hat.

"It's _Professor_ McGonagall to you, Hat. As for what you can help me with, you can speed up this sorting so that I can get through the rest of the students who have been waiting here for quite some time." She replied sternly, making sure to place extra emphasis on her opening line to the enchanted piece of head-wear. The Hat seemed to shuffle around on Harry's head so that he could face the woman and, if the tone of its voice was anything to go by, glare at the woman quite heatedly.

"I will take as long as I need to, _Minerva,_ even if that is two years." He (if the animated piece of Headwear could be assigned a gender) responded sternly, earning an even more sever look from the Deputy Headmistress of the school.

"This is ridiculous, there's no way that it can have taken you almost the same amount of time to sort this boy as it did Professor Dumbledore."

Harry felt his entire body stiffen at the woman's words. She was supposed to be an educational _professional,_ a person who _wanted_ to see the children under her care become the best they could possibly be. She should have been a person who saw limitless potential in each of her students, and taken a great sense of pride and honour in being allowed to guide those children on their journey to adulthood. And yet here she was, writing him off like _everyone_ else seemed to and just wanting to move onto another child; it was absolutely infuriating.

Harry felt his very blood boil at the woman's words, but before he could lash out with either his sharp vocabulary or his magical power, the Hat sprang to his defence.

"It's not ridiculous when he's a far more interesting individual than Albus. Now quieten down Minerva, before I get someone to make you." That Hat responded sharply, earning an affronted look from the stern teacher and a small peel of laughter from the student body and (rather surprisingly) some of the staff as well. The woman's face turned scarlet before she stomped back over to where she had originally been stood, with her venomous glare never fully leaving the Hat on Harry's head, which had now re-shuffled itself around so that it was facing out into the Great-Hall again. The Hat sat on his head silently for a minute or so, before it began to speak again, this time out-loud so that the rest of the Hall could hear it.

"I've made up my mind mister Potter."

Those words caused the student body to take a collective deep-breath, which the Hat allowed for before it began to speak to Harry within his mind again, filling it with its powerful and commanding voice once more.

' _Loyalty is important to you, is it not? To you, loyalty to friends is not something that is given out easily, but once established it is more fierce and protective than anyone could comprehend, and yet it is not what defines you Mister Potter.'_

The Hall collectively shrugged its shoulders at the Hat's words, it made at least one comment like this a sorting. And as such, they continued to wait for the Hat's verdict.

' _There is a deep sense of courage in you; it thrums through your very soul and has given you the edge you have needed so many times in the past. It is the trait which steels your nerves and calms your mind, and allows you to bring your very best to the field._

 _But that is not what defines you, Mister Potter._

 _Nor is it your intellect that defines you. You are absolutely brilliant, there is no doubt about that, Mister Potter and nobody can take that away from you. You have a fierce hunger for knowledge that even Rowena herself would have been hard pressed to satiate it with answers._

 _And yet this is still not what truly defines you as a person, is it Mister Potter?_

 _No, what drive you is far more important to you than anything else. It is something that only a few people in this room will truly understand, isn't it? It's a never-ending hunger that only Albus and Quirinus would be able to understand fully, because they have that same hunger in their hearts._

 _It's the hunger to be the best._

 _A never ending ambition to overcome every challenge set in your path, so that you can climb the mountain that is the Supernatural world and reach its summit….. and then ascend beyond its scope. Past the realm of normal Mages and Devils, Angels and their Fallen brethren. Into the domain where all but monsters fear to tread, a world where power and strength defines you, and the legacy you leave behind._

 _Your determination to do whatever is necessary will serve you well in your endeavours Mister Potter, as you stride towards your glorious goal. It will be the iron fist with which you crush all opposition, and leave it in your wake as you continue your march. Your cunning will be your shield, protecting you from harm and allowing you to strike forth against your foes and dispense of them as you march on…._

 _But your hunger, your ambition, is what makes you who you are. It is what defines you as a person. For many it is a simplistic urge that aids them on a day to day basis, but your ambition is what makes you who you are, it is the source and essence of your very being._

 _It is the source of the loyalty you devote wholly and fully to those you trust your life to._

 _It is the source of the courage that tempers your will into steel, to do what you must._

 _It is the source of the intellect that will allow you to navigate this difficult path you have chosen._

 _I expect nothing less than success from you, Mister Potter. I look forward to the day when you stand atop the world and your path complete. And now I shall set you on your way, and I look forward to seeing you start your legacy here at this school, in….'_

"SLYTHERIN!"

The moment the word left the Hat's mouth, the entirety of the Great Hall fell silent. Those who knew the history of Wizarding Britain because of shock, and those who did not because they quickly understood that this must have been a big deal.

And it was.

No Potter had ever been sorted into Slytherin before. It was simply unheard of. They were always in either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, with the odd exception entering the house of Badgers ever few generations. For a Potter to end up in Slytherin, they must have truly been different from the rest of their family: and given the reputation of the house of Snakes over the past twenty years or so, his inclusion into the house was naturally going to draw him a lot of negative attention.

Harry, for his part, couldn't help but feel an odd sense of calm wash over his soul as he strode towards his new housemates having removed the hat, idly noting a faint but consistent level of applause breaking out across the Hall. The Slytherin students were mostly looking at him with an appraising look, as if evaluating his worth to their house, whilst some members looked at him with disgusted sneers. The majority of those who were sneering were the children of 'suspected' former Death Eaters who had managed to claim that they were compelled to serve Voldemort under the 'Imperious Curse' (a forbidden mind-based spell that was labelled as one of many 'dark' spells that were banned by the Ministry of Magic). It was all a load of rubbish, of course, and they had been rather willing followers of the last Dark Lord. But it also happened to be that they were also _very_ wealthy, and as such able to bribe their way out any charges levelled against them.

Harry knew that the majority of Slytherin's were in their house because of their ambition and cunning, not because they were evil. However, because of the actions of the few, Slytherin had been labelled as the 'dark' House. It was stupid, but Harry knew that not everyone was as open minded and thoughtful as he was, and as such, he had somewhat managed to temper his expectations with regards to the nature of the student body at Hogwarts.

And yet he couldn't help but feel at home as he made his way towards them. The hat's words still resonated with Harry's very soul; he wanted to _be the best._ And only Slytherin would give him the chance to become that. It was the only house that would allow him to truly strive for greatness and become the man that he was supposed to be.

' _But enough about the future Harry, focus on the now.'_

Spotting Draco sat amongst a throng of first-years, the youngest Potter male quickly made his way towards his newest acquaintance and sat down comfortably next to him, earning a small nod of welcome from the pale-skinned Malfoy heir. Harry reciprocated the nod lightly before turning his attention back to the rest of the sorting ceremony. The rest was just as tedious as the majority of it, and Harry allowed his thoughts to drift away quite comfortably, only returning his focus to pick out little bits of information from the Headmaster's opening speech.

' _Forbidden forest is forbidden; better see why.'_

' _Third floor corridor on the left hand side of the stairs is out of bounds: that's gonna be fun to explore later on.'_

Filling away the information for later, the youngest Potter male turned his attention fully onto the Headmaster as he finally said the words that he had been waiting for since lunch-time.

"All I have left to say is: tuck in."

* * *

 _(Three quarters of an hour later, Slytherin House Common Room)_

"You are all now members of the house of Snakes. Despite what most people may think of us, this house is closer-knit than any of the others at this school. I expect you to watch each-others backs at all times, and to present a genuinely united front to the rest of the school. If you have any disputes, try to settle them within the confines of the Slytherin dormitories.

But if anyone is behaving in a manner that is unfitting of our House and you must step in, I expect you to show them the….. _error_ of their ways.

Also, I expect that you all _will_ break the rules at some point: I take no issue with this. You are children, after all. However what I _do_ expect from you is that if I am not present to cover for you, is that you do _not_ get caught. Our House is on course for holding onto the House cup for a third year in a row, an all-time record. As such, we cannot afford to lose silly points because you were not smart enough to carry out your plans.

There are plenty of other rules that you need to be aware of, but they can be found on your desks in your dormitories, now pay attention whilst I read out who each of you shall be sharing a room with."

Snape's voice was quiet, like the whispers of a ghost on a summer's breeze, and yet it somehow managed to fill Slytherin's common-room. It was a weird yet also unsurprising, given the man's presence. Harry had met him on a few occasions, and he honestly felt indifferent towards the man. Hopefully the year would help give some perspective on the man's character, if only so that the youngest Potter could actually _have_ an opinion on him.

Harry tuned him out as he began to read out the list of females students and who they would be rooming with, in favour of examining the common-room in which a great deal of his time would be spent over the coming years.

The room itself was much larger than Harry had anticipated, with a large bookcase dominating the majority of the western wall. The northern wall was defined by two snaking passages that lead to the student's dormitories; left for girls and right for the boys. The majority of the rest of the room was taken up by tasteful black and dark brown furniture that was often laden with a silver or green edge that suited the piece. In the eastern wall was a small alcove, where statue of a snake sat with its fangs bared and its head reared back to strike its prey. Its stone eyes seemed to keep a vigil over the common room, as if daring anyone to betray the values of Slytherin.

If he were honest, Harry had expected the room to be rather dank and dingy, considering that the Slytherin dorms were in the dungeons. However, he had turned out to be (rather pleasantly) wrong about the whole affair, and as such he was expecting the dorms to be of a similar quality. Shaking his head slightly, Harry tuned back into his head of houses' speech just as he came to Harry's name on the list.

"Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy."

' _Well, well, well. What are the chances of that, huh?'_ Harry thought to himself in mild surprise. He was happy that he was to be sharing with Draco, but he did honestly expect to be stuck with one of the other boys in his year, such as Zabini. However he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Tuning out again until Snape had finished, Harry only re-focused his mind when the man had finished the list and had given out his final order for the evening.

"Now that that's out of the way, I've asked the upper years to stay away from the common room this evening so that you may use it for an hour or so to get to know one-another a little better. After all, you are going to spend seven years together as a group, so you may as well learn about each-other, if only so you don't aggravate one-another on a daily basis." He finished in a drawl before spinning on his heel and marching past the group of first years with his cape bellowing behind him and out of the room.

After several tense moments of inactivity, the elven year olds quickly broke apart to find their various roommates. It took Harry all of two seconds to identify the overly-gelled scalp of the young Malfoy scion, and as such Harry quickly made his way over to the boy, who seemed to be in conversation with a troll-looking girl with brown curly hair. Draco had a polite smile plastered onto his face, but Harry could tell his was practically _dying_ to get away from the girl. So it was with a sense of confidence that Harry quickly intruded on the conversation, using his knowledge of the girl's name to begin his 'rescue operation'.

"Excuse me, Miss Bulstrode but I need to borrow Malfoy quickly so that we can quickly work out how on Earth we're going to live with one another for the coming year." Harry intoned dryly, earning a grateful look from Draco and a slightly annoyed one from the troll-like girl stood opposite him. She looked like she wanted to say something, but before her cracked lips could even part to allow a single sound to escape, Draco had grabbed Harry by the arm and had started to drag him towards the door that would lead them to their dorms.

"Potter's right, Bullstrode. I'll talk to you later, but unfortunately business has to come first~!" He spluttered out hastily whilst firmly grabbing hold of Harry's arm. The young Malfoy then proceeded to virtually sprint from the doorway until he finally stopped in-front of a heavy oak door with a small name plate on it that caused Harry to smile lightly.

 _H. Potter & D. Malfoy – 1_ _st_ _Years._

The writing was gorgeous and neat and currently stencilled into a thick brass plate that had been bolted onto the door. The design all looked ancient, and yet it still looked as fresh and high-quality as when it was first installed. Turning his gaze from the door, Harry watched as Draco quickly grabbed a hold of the handle and opened it up, revealing a rather lavish room.

Two ornate four-poster beds rested in opposite corners of the room, with two bedside tables made of a dark mahogany on either side of the bed. The curtains were of a gorgeous green, the same as the duvet, that provided the room with a classy feel that Harry couldn't help but appreciate slightly. A single table was in the middle of the main room, providing the two students a shared working space where they would be able to study together if they wished to.

Also, near the beds were not only two dressers with mirrors but also doors which obviously led to two en-suite bathrooms. And in-between the two beds in the wall was a large window, some two meters across. It had a small seat that would allow a person to sit there and enjoy the gorgeous view of Hogwarts grounds that it undoubtedly gave, although all either of them could see out of it at the moment was the endless expanse of the night sky, with each of the stars twinkling gently in the distance.

Sighing to himself, Harry walked over to his trunk, which had been placed on the left hand side of the room, whilst Draco moved to the right, and the pair began unpacking their things. The two continued their menial task until Draco finally decided to break their agreeable silence.

"Thanks for that back there, Bullstrode is more troll than human and doesn't seem to understand when I'm telling her to get lost." He said in a genuinely thankful tone, earning a small chuckle out of Harry.

"Well as long as you return the favour one day…."

"Oh don't worry, I've got your back on that front."

"But what about in general, Draco?"

That question caused the young Malfoy to stop what he was doing and let out a small sigh. He stood there silently for a small while before he finally decided to answer his roommate with what appeared to be a wholly genuine answer.

"This is a Viper's nest down here. Most of the kids are like us; they're here because they are cunning and ambitious. However there are other kids who are here because of their belief of blood superiority, and they tend to rule things as they often have the most power both politically and physically.

Which is why we need to stick together. Together us, plus anyone else we can eventually put our trust in are going to be our best means of ensuring that we have a good seven years. Who knows? Maybe we'll even clear up the Houses' public image whilst we're at it." Draco responded seriously, earning a neutral look from Harry, who had anticipated this response, and had also detected that the boy hadn't given him his full reasoning.

' _And that's because it's correct. We need to stay together down here and scrounge up as many allies and friends as we possibly can down here, otherwise we're going to be in the shit if things kick off. I know he's got something else to say, but there's no point in forcing the issue. We need to stay united.'_ Harry thought to himself before he responded to the Malfoy scion.

"Good to see that we're on the same page, Draco. I know we may not exactly be _friends_ yet, but allied acquaintances is a great place to start. If you cover my weaknesses then I'll cover yours.

And who knows, maybe we will live to see the light of day in our seventh year." Harry replied darkly, earning a healthy chuckle from Draco as he continued to pack his things away, although Harry could tell that the friends comment stuck a nerve somewhat with the boy, if the indecipherable look in his eyes was anything to go by.

' _Worth thinking about for later on.'_

Eventually, the two pre-teens finished unloading their luggage, and committed themselves for a journey back to the common room, despite their desire to leave any further socializing for the next day.

The two of them strode in whilst there was only three other people present. The first of which was a young yet cheery girl by the name of Tracey Davis who had brown hair and had forsaken her robes for simply wearing the uniform underneath. Opposite her on another sofa was a very tanned and black-haired boy by the name of Blaise Zabini, the youngest child of three and the male heir to the infamously 'grey' Zabini family. His face bared all the hallmarks of a future aristocrat, as did the calm and composed demeanour he projected.

However, it was the last person who truly caught Harry's attention.

She was sat next to Tracey and like said girl and his friend from the Train, Shirley, he couldn't help but notice how pretty she was. With her perfect nose, high cheek-bones, ice-blue eyes and seemingly porcelain-like skin, it was easy to see that the girl would grow up to be a true beauty as the years passed. Her hair was like a golden waterfall given the way that it cascaded down her back, and her small yet naturally red lips were curled into a casual yet lazy smirk. After several seconds, the girl's head nodded in greeting to Harry, who naturally nodded in response before moving along with Draco to join their already assembled house-mates.

They joined the group and integrated themselves into their comfortable silence expertly. They all seemed to clearly think the same thing, in that exchanging names now would be pointless seeing as they would be introducing themselves shortly anyways. Over the following few minutes, the rest of their year mates would trickle in, each understanding that the principle that the others had already established and following it dutifully.

Eventually, everyone but three people had reached the room. The Davis girl went to say something, but before she could, a grating and annoying voice filled the silence that caused Harry's eyebrow to twitch in annoyance.

"Good to see you all know to wait for your better, I suppose. Now let's get this over with so that I can get to sleep."

The boy who spoke was the very definition of the type of person that Harry _hated;_ a little ponce who had been handed everything in his life, and believed that just because daddy had a little bit of money, it made him the most important person in the world. What Harry hated so much about these kinds of people was how _lazy_ they all were: they didn't train or work hard because they didn't think they needed to, because they were who they were, and because to them that was 'enough'.

It infuriated Harry beyond reckoning, and he could already tell that he was _not_ going to get along with the sickly looking, black haired Theodore Nott as he strolled into the room like he owned it, with two lumbering gorillas (sorry, students) following ominously behind him.

The Greengrass heiress seemed to roll her eyes at him, the same as Harry. They both noticed each-others actions and couldn't help but smirk lightly at each-others actions with a single message passing between their gazes.

 _What an arsehole, right?_

The boy continued his stroll until he finally reached the assembled group. Harry idly noticed that Zabini, Davis and Greengrass were all giving the boy looks of distain whilst a pug-like girl called Pansy Parkinson and the troll-like Bullstrode stared at him like he was god's gift to the world. He stood there for several seconds before he fixed his brown eyes on Harry's own exotic violet ones….. and stared.

And stared.

 _And stared._

"Can I help you?"

Harry's words were spoken with faux sincerity, something which caused the Davis heiress to smile at and the Zabini heir to smirk at briefly. Nott's beady eyes narrowed at Harry's words whilst his foot began tapping.

"I'm waiting." He said in a neutral tone with a small, cocky smirk playing on his lips. Harry knew immediately that Nott expected him to move so that he could sit down. He could have just told the arrogant ponce to get lost, but he decided that winding him up would be a far more entertaining in the long run. So, fixing a slightly confused look on his face, Harry replied to the purebloods statement.

"For us to start? How do you think we felt, waiting for you to get down here?" He asked innocently, causing Davis's smile to turn into a small grin and Zabini's smirk to remain fixed in place. Meanwhile, Nott's eyes narrowed considerably as he fixed his now rage-filled glare at the youngest Potter male, whilst his voice took on a slightly more aggressive tone.

"For you to get up so that I can sit down."

"Should've gotten down here sooner. Just get Tweedledum and Tweedledee there to bring you over a sofa if your legs are so weak that you can't stand for five minutes. I mean, the only _possible_ reason you keep them around is to make up for your own lack of manual skills." Harry replied in a completely disinterested fashion, causing Nott to grit his teeth in anger at the boy's statement. It was obvious that he was about to say something again to Harry, but before he could, he seemed to regain control of his emotions and re-affixed his cocky smirk onto his lips.

Clicking his fingers, the two gorilla-like boys at his side quickly marched away and grabbed the nearest sofa and, with an impressive show of strength for two eleven year old boys, picked up the aforementioned piece of furniture and placed it behind Nott, who immediately sat himself down onto the sofa, his smirk growing in arrogance as he seemed to assume he had impressed Harry, who had stayed silent….

Only to realise that the Potter heir was paying him no attention and was instead reading a book.

The look of shock and anger on Nott's face caused Tracey and Blaise to break down into small fits of laughter, whilst eliciting a smile from the stoic Greengrass heiress. Draco was smiling to himself and desperately trying to hide his grin, but it was obvious to everyone that the Malfoy heir was greatly amused by his newest acquaintances' actions, offspring of his father's enemy or not.

Eventually, the amusement in the group died down and Nott managed to re-compose himself again, and the newest cohort of Slytherin house sat there, unsure as to how they should proceeded following the somewhat…. _dividing_ first few moments. Eventually, after several moments of awkward silence, a certain brunette Davis child decided to break the tense atmosphere and get the ball rolling.

"Okay, well seeing as we're not all familiar with one another and it's pretty late, I say we keep this brief. How about just saying our names, likes and dislikes and then what our plans or dreams are for the future?" She asked brightly, unaware that in a Ninja village countless parallel universes away a white haired, scarecrow looking man had sneezed loudly just before he greeted the team he was to mentor, thanks to her words.

Everyone looked around the room quickly, as if trying to find anyone who was against the proposed idea. When no opposition was forthcoming, Tracey smiled brightly before clapping her hands together and speaking up again.

"Well in that case, I guess I'll go first, and then we can go clockwise from me.

My name is Tracey Davis. I like reading and talking with my friends. I dislike arrogant people and pumpkin juice. One day, I would like to create my own chain of bookstores and make it the largest in the wizarding world!" Her voice was chipper for the entire time, and yet Harry couldn't help but mentally smirk at the wise game the girl had played. She hadn't told anyone anything that could compromise her abilities or reveal any weaknesses that she had, and yet had still done what the exercise asked of her. It was a true testament to her status in the house of Snakes.

Harry watched as the girl gestured to the blond-haired girl beside her, who let out a small sigh before she began speaking.

"My name is Daphne Greengrass. I like to practice potions and read about medical magic theory. My dislikes are the same as Tracy's. When I'm older, I plan on becoming the best Medi-witch alive." She said neutrally, earning a smile from Tracy and nods of acceptance from everyone else. Bulstrode and Parkinson were next, and they both proved to be rather uninteresting and boring characters who couldn't help but somehow reference Nott in what they were saying.

It actually made Harry feel slightly ill to listen to and watch.

Eventually came Nott, who couldn't help but stand up and adopt a rather condescending tone of voice that grated on Harry's nerves quite badly.

"You should all know my name by now, but if not; it is Theodore Nott, heir to the ancient family of Nott. I like buying the newest Quidditch gear and clothes, and I hate poor people and mud-bloods. In the future, I plan to take my father's Wizenmangot seat and help protect the purity of our kind's blood."

The entire thing made Harry feel sick to his core. He was an arse at times, but this kid was the definition of outright disgusting. How _anyone_ could think that what he had said was in any way, shape or form acceptable in modern society was beyond him. Blood purity was just what bigoted nobles used to try and hold onto their power in an ever-changing world. But mages, like the Devils, had to accept that it no-longer mattered in comparison to the survival of a people: hence the relaxation of the marriage laws for wizards and the creation of the 'Evil Piece' system for Devils.

' _Ignorant fool, I swear to god it should be illegal for morons like his father to have children in the first place, so that there's no danger of our population's IQ being damaged.'_ Harry thought to himself venomously. Nott was the kind of person that Harry absolutely despised; arrogant and dismissive of those he didn't consider 'pure', meaning that he was the type of person who would look down on and 'forget' Harry…

And that pissed him off.

So staying quiet through Draco's brief monologue in which he revealed a desire to become a professional Quidditch player later on in life, Harry quickly planned out what he had to say. Eventually, the Malfoy heir finished speaking, and the attention of the group zeroed in on the last member of the group.

"And last but not least we have…."

"Harry Potter. I like learning new offensive spells and practicing my unarmed combat style. I dislike people who have everything given to them and that are arrogant. In the future, I will surpass Albus Dumbledore and become the strongest wizard alive, or die trying."

The first few things he had mentioned were entirely accurate; he loved learning new spells that would allow him to destroy his impending foes. Sure, he omitted his affinity for illusion magic, but he knew it was best to keep _that_ little chestnut under wraps for as long as he physically could. He mentioned his dislikes to open up a form of communication with Greengrass and Davis: if they had something in common, then it may be enough to stop them from trying anything against each-other, if only so that Nott would feel more isolated.

But the last part of his speech…

Well it _was_ true, but the simple fact of the matter was that it was only _half_ the truth. Sure, he wanted to get stronger than Dumbledore was…but his reasons for doing so were going to stay his own.

' _For now, at least.'_

Tracy went to say something, obviously in an attempt to round everything off and finish the evening on a high note, but before she could so much as utter a syllable, Nott's aggravating voice permeated the air, tainting the sweet silence with his own vile tone.

"What a surprise, the _half-blood_ wants to fight like a muggle. I suppose we can't expect anything else out of such a disgrace." The boy sneered, earning narrowed eyes from Harry as he rose from his seat to meet the boy on his feet. Harry smirked ever so slightly at Nott's words before he responded to him.

"Pray tell, _Theodore,_ how I am a disgrace. Because as far as I can see, you're the only disgrace to Mage kind in this room." He responded neutrally, earning narrowed eyes from the son of a Death-Eater. Nott slowly began closing the distance between the two of them, all the while allowing his putrid voice to defile the air between them.

"Oh really? Well I _was_ born with smarts and talent, whilst you weren't. I mean, it's obvious that all of the good attributes went to your siblings, otherwise a _Potter_ wouldn't be in Slytherin. All you have left is your ability to lie and blag, and the silver tongue to lie to the rest of the world that you're something special, when we all know you're really not.

In truth, I look forward to seeing you die trying to accomplish your dream. If you were like me then you may have had a chance at becoming something special, but you're just the forgotten spawn of a blood-traitor and a mud-blood.

To be honest, I'll be surprised if I remember an insignificant insect like you unt –"

 **WHACK!**

Before he could finish his speech, Theodore was sent sprawling to the floor in a shower of blood as Harry smacked him across the cheeks with a silver candlestick holder that was on the table in the middle of the space between sofas. The blow had broken his target's cheekbone and nose if the pained scream, cut and bloodied nose were anything to go bye.

Normally, Harry was a calm and logical individual; but Nott had unconsciously pushed _all_ the wrong buttons this evening. He could tolerate his intellect and ability being questioned, he could tolerate his dreams being mocked and his parents insulted. They annoyed him, but not enough to elicit a response from him; that was caused by Nott threatening to forget him and telling him he was insignificant. He'd had enough of being forgotten by his parents and siblings; Hogwarts was supposed to be his fresh start from all of that nonsense.

But here was Nott, trying to annoy or belittle Harry with his words… and all it has succeeded in doing was _pissing Harry off_.

The moment Nott hit the floor, his two gorillas (sorry, guards, sorry, fellow students) sprang into action. The first to get near to Harry was Crabbe, the slightly shorter and fatter of the two (not that it was really noticeable unless one actually paid attention to them). He swung one of his gargantuan paws at Harry, clearly hoping to hit the young Potter and pay him back for hurting his boss. However, unlike Harry, Crabbe had almost no competence in unarmed fighting what-so-ever it seemed, aside from some very basic practice with throwing common punches. It was clear that the brute of a child relied on using his pure physical attributes to make up for any lack of technique. Against any other person in the room, that would have been enough for him to crush them in a fist-fight….

But Harry was not every other person.

Waiting until the last possible moment, Harry snaked underneath the blow with considerable grace for someone without any _formal_ training in close-combat. Then with the speed of a viper, the young man used his leg and arm muscles to stand back up and swing the candlestick in an upwards motion at Crabbe's chin. The result was a satisfying crack that indicated something had been at least chipped and if not outright broken.

The giant of a child was sent tumbling to the floor, causing the room to seemingly shake slightly as his frame settled onto the floor after being pole-axed. Harry shifted his grip on the candle-stick, but before it could settle fully, the second monstrously huge elven-year-old charged at him. The youngest Potter male could barely let out a surprised gasp as the air was driven from his lungs and the candlestick from his grasp by Goyle's shoulder, which was currently planted firmly in his stomach. The behemoth of an eleven-year-old kept charging forwards, carrying Harry with him until they finally reached the opposing wall, some five or so meters away.

Harry grit his teeth in pain as his back was driven into the cold stone of the common-room's wall. The moment his wits were back under control, Harry brought both his hands above his head and began to bring them down mercilessly on Goyle's back. However, Harry was forced to grudgingly admit that this half of the ugly duo was far harder than his companion, as his blows seemed to barely pass as an annoyance for the gorilla like child as he tried to un-trap his arms from behind Harry so that he could actually start to punch the youngest Potter male. Casting his violet eyes back to where they had started, Harry was forced to bite back a curse as he realised that Nott was slowly getting to his feet, with magic slowly begin to seep into his system, if Harry's senses were to be trusted.

' _I need to get out of here now!'_ Harry thought to himself with the smallest dregs of fear creeping into his mind. Fortunately, the youngest male Potter managed to force the icy embrace of fear from his mind, enabling him to think clearly and logically, which were the only two things that were going to get him out of this situation.

Quickly casting his eyes around, Harry realised that Goyle had spread his legs rather wide, in an effort to provide himself with more leverage in removing his arms….. leaving him rather _exposed_ to certain attacks.

' _There's my distraction, but what can I use to knock this git out with?'_ Harry reasoned, knowing full-well that without reinforcement magic flowing through his veins, it would be impossible for him to take out Goyle without a weapon. So casting his eyes back around his local surroundings, Harry was quick to recognize the marble overhang of the fireplace that was opposite where the group had originally been sat. Casting his gaze down, Harry let out a mental cry of relief as he caught site of a metal fire-tender which was hanging nearby along with other fireplace tending equipment. Quite why such equipment was needed in a magical castle, Harry didn't know, but he was not about to question his stroke of good luck based on the grounds of practicality and logic right now.

Swinging his leg back, Harry swung it forwards again with as much force as he could muster. Unlike his punches, which had been all but ignored by the giant troll child, Harry's kick certainly activated Goyle's pain receptors. The blow caused the boy to let out a shriek of agony that was certainly two or three notes higher than a male (even at their age) could reach.

Pushing all the strength he could into his arms, Harry managed to force the mutant boy away from his body by several feet. The moment he had the space necessary, Harry had grabbed hold of the fire-tender, and brought it around in a vicious semi-circle that sent the troll-boy into the bliss of unconsciousness, albeit in a splatter of blood and the start of one-hell of a headache for when he woke up.

Harry smirked to himself, and was just about to celebrate his victory, but before he could, his sense screamed at him to dive to the left. Acting on instinct, the young Potter heir was rewarded for his action by avoiding a bright-blue bolt of lightning that would have otherwise smashed into him. The bolt smashed into the wall behind Harry, causing a small blast-mark and smoke to form where the attack had hit. Turning his narrowed gaze back towards the group of chair's, Harry was not surprised to see Nott standing there, nose dripping with blood and the cut on his cheek flowing with blood and a small magic circle in-front of his left hand.

It was a basic spell, sure, but it would still hurt like hell for someone of Harry's age if he were hit with it.

Realizing that he wouldn't have enough time to summon up a shield to defend himself or charge an attack which would hit Nott, Harry found himself improvising in order to ensure that Nott didn't emerge from this victorious. Rearing back his right hand, Harry launched the fire-tender in his hand at Nott, hoping to at least distract the boy so that he could charge up his own attack.

However, it appeared that Lady Luck was firmly in Harry's camp this day, as the spinning piece of blackened iron crashed into the hand that Theodore was using to charge his attack, causing him to abandon the spell in favour of a wail of agony as his fingers were broken by the piece of metal bending them all the way back so that his nails touched the back of his hand.

The moment Nott crashed to the floor, Harry set about finishing the fight by calling upon his own magic.

For Harry, it was like tapping into an ocean. His magical reserves had always been far greater than any of his siblings at his age, if his parent's occasional words of praise were to be believed, and as such control had been a problem for him when he had first started out. However, he had worked (and continued to work) hard at his control, and as such Harry sound found himself easily able to access his magic and use the amount he wanted or needed, and not simply the amount that poured from his reserves when he tapped into them. Of course he still had a long way to go, but for an eleven year-old, his control was as close to 'masterful' as it could be at his age.

The moment he had the energy he needed, a small blue magical circle flicker to existence in-front of his left hand. A small lightning bolt was in the centre, denoting it as a spell linked to that particular 'element'. The moment the circle was complete, Harry took aim at his fellow first year and poured some of his magic into the seal.

The moment he did so, a bolt of lightning twice the size of the one Nott fired came flying back at the pure-blood ponce, smacking him square in the chest and sending him to the floor, hair on end and muscles spasaming as they tried to cope with the sudden influx of electricity into his nerves. The moment he stopped moving, Harry began to stalk towards Nott, raising his magical seal in a threatening manner in order to ward off the rising figures of Parkinson and Bullstrode, who shrank back into their seats upon realising they had been made.

"You know, I would've just ignored your ignorant and foolish ramblings, _Nott,_ if you had just kept insulting my family or my intelligence." Harry commented calmly, as if having a normal conversation with the downed boy as he continued to stalk towards him, magical power flaring slightly as he maintained the pace of his advance.

"But you just _had_ to try and belittle me, didn't you? You had to try and make out that I was never going to be anything special, and that I'd be _forgotten_. And guess what Nott? That pisses me off.

A lot.

So the next time you want to have a shit-flinging contest, I suggest you stick to insulting my parents or elder siblings, or anything else about me. But if you try to even _suggest_ that I'll be forgotten or that I'm not going to amount to anything… well let's just say that you don't really want to find out what'll happen to you.

Are we clear?"

Harry finished his mini speech by placing one foot firmly on Nott's chest, eliciting a pained groan from the young man as he tried to respond to Harry's cold and callous words. However, before the Nott heir could answer, an all too familiar voice broke through the silence that had enveloped the room.

"Care to explain what happened here, Mister Potter?"

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **And there we have it ladies and gentlemen, the first chapter of 'Code DxD Potter', and the single longest chapter that I have ever written.**

 **I know we went through a lot of stuff in just the first chapter, but like I said at the start, I want to race through years one, two, three, and four so that I can get those done and then move onto my own personally created arc and then DxD canon. Don't worry, plenty of characters from the Code Geass and DxD shall appear before the start of then and play very important roles, but they won't make an appearance until at least the end of this year, which shall be either next chapter or the chapter after, depending on the answer you all give to the following question.**

 **What did you guys think of the length of the chapter?**

 **Was it too long, just right or do you think it could have been a little longer? I'd like to know because I plan to update this story every four days if you all decide that you like chapters that are roughly 20,000 words, or once every two days if you guys want the chapters kept at 8-10,000 words. It makes no difference to me at all, I'd just like to hear your thoughts on the subject.**

 **Any ways, I like to hear what you all think of the story thus far. It's (hopefully, if it's liked) going to be a VERY long and emotional journey, filled with plot-twists and shocks that will keep you entertained as we follow our Hero through the highs of victory and the gutters of defeat, depression and soul-destroying loss.**

 **Code DxD Potter has been initiated.**

 **And now its life is in your hands.**

 **Tell me what you thought about the first chapter with a review: what you liked and what you disliked, what needs changing and what can stay the same. I always love to hear your thoughts, no matter how critical or kind: it's what gives me the drive to improve and the satisfaction of knowing that I've done a job well.**

 **Also, make sure that you stay up-to-date with Code DxD Potter by dropping a favourite or a follow (or maybe even both) so that you never miss a single step of this journey.**

 **But for now, that's enough outta me.**

 **Peace folks,**

 **MetalGearMantis.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Notes = A/N**

"Normal Speech."

' _Thoughts."_

" _Foreign Language."_

" _ **Sacred Gears/Weapon spirits speech."**_

' _ **Sacred Gear/ Weapon spirits thoughts."**_

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_

 _ **Woah, I didn't think that this story would attract this kind of attention so quickly! Not that I'm complaining about it though: hopefully it bodes well for the future.**_

 _ **Any ways, after reviewing the PM's and reviews I've received, I've decided to compromise on the average chapter length, keeping them at between 10-15 K, with an extension for big battle chapters. The reasoning is because it is very difficult to find the inspiration to consistently churn out 20 K plus chapters when there's not one large set-piece event (I.E: A duel of epic proportions) to work on. However, I feel roughly 15 K is a fair compromise, especially when the chapters should (hopefully) be churned out on almost a four or so day basis, now that I've managed to sort out the personal business that's been plaguing me these past few weeks.**_

 _ **Also, I'd just like to apologize for a mistake I made in the Harem Q &A question answer from chapter one. I intend on keeping the harem at roughly ten girls, MAYBE eleven if there's enough demand for it, but no bigger. I just didn't change the place-holder numbers I originally used when I first wrote the chapter: and for that I apologize. But any ways, now that's been cleared up, I hope it's removed any fears of this becoming a piece of 'pointless porn crap' (which, by the way, it won't be for as long as I'm in control of the plot!). **_

_**But enough outta me.**_

 _ **Let's get going.**_

 _ **(P.S: Just so you know, before Harry's sacred gear is revealed, I'll be dropping a LOT of hints. However, some of them will be fake, in order to throw you guys off the scent of the real Gear.**_

 _ **So don't assume it's Zenith Tempest just yet. I mean, it may well be… or it might not. Hopefully no-one will really figure it out until it's revealed!)**_

* * *

 _(Disclaimer: See chapter one)_

* * *

 _(Last time in 'Code: DxD Potter'.)_

" _You know, I would've just ignored your ignorant and foolish ramblings, Nott, if you had just kept insulting my family or my intelligence." Harry commented calmly, as if having a normal conversation with the downed boy as he continued to stalk towards him, magical power flaring slightly as he maintained the pace of his advance._

" _But you just had to try and belittle me, didn't you? You had to try and make out that I was never going to be anything special, and that I'd be forgotten. And guess what Nott? That pisses me off._

 _A lot._

 _So the next time you want to having a shit-flinging contest, I suggest you stick to insulting my parents or elder siblings, or anything else about me. But if you try to even suggest that I'll be forgotten or that I'm not going to amount to anything… well let's just say that you don't really want to find out what'll happen to you._

 _Are we clear?"_

 _Harry finished his mini speech by placing one foot firmly on Nott's chest, eliciting a pained groan from the young man as he tried to respond to Harry's cold and callous words. However, before the Nott heir could answer, an all too familiar voice broke through the silence that had enveloped the room._

" _Care to explain what happened here, Mister Potter?"_

* * *

 _ **(Chapter one: Hogwarts, Year One Part 1 of 2)**_

* * *

 _(With Harry and Draco the next morning) _

Harry let out a small sigh of frustration as he, Draco and the rest of the Slytherin first-years were lead to their first ever lesson at Hogwarts: Herbology with Professor Sprout. The fifth-year who was in-charge and leading them was trying her best to be helpful and friendly, by supplying random tid-bits of information that she felt would be useful or pointing out different ways in which the first-years could navigate the seemingly endless halls of Hogwarts.

However, unlike most of his first year peers, Harry's mind and attention was focused on anything but the ravenett's words as she lead them around the castle, with his attention instead being focused on the events that had transpired last-night, following his _altercation_ with Theodore Nott and his gorilla-like thugs.

* * *

( _Flashback, Yesterday evening, Snape's office)_

 _Harry sat rigidly in the chair that professor Snape had ordered him to sit and wait in whilst he went to ask some more questions of those that had been present. As such, the youngest Potter male allowed his gaze to drift about the room, if only to occupy his mind whilst he briefly went over his defence argument in his head._

 _The room itself would have been incredibly spacious, had it not been for the obscene amount of potions paraphernalia that Professor Snape seemed dead-set on keeping in his office. The west wall was completely covered in shelves and book-cases that were filled to the brim with text-books that covered just about every single potion in existence: from deadly poisons to life-saving elixirs. Their spines were all well-worn, indicating that they still saw consistent use or had been used extensively earlier on. The east wall was similar to the western one, if only in terms of the countless number of shelves that were there. For instead of a never-ending library of potion's text-books, the eastern wall played host to countless potion ingredients: some which Harry knew were unbelievably expensive, whilst some he didn't even want to hazard a_ _ **guess**_ _as to what their prices were._

 _It created an odd dichotomy for the room: a never-ending sea of brown and black leather to the left and a plethora of vivid colours to the right. And yet, Harry couldn't help but appreciate the fact that the scheme_ _ **somehow**_ _managed to work. He had no idea how on Earth it could possibly work, but he wasn't going to argue against his first impression: it wasn't worth the headache it would bring. After all, rule one of the wizarding world was that you did_ _ **not**_ _question the logic behind anything in it: the answers were usually so long and convoluted or unbelievable that you ended up with more of a conundrum than when you started._

' _Honestly, you'd think that God made it this way just for his own personal amusement.' Harry grumbled to himself within the darker recesses of his mind. Just as he was about to launch into a long-winded internal debate about the issues he had with the wizarding world and God's (apparent) world-wide joke, the door to the room swung open and allowed Snape to glide into the room almost silently. Harry kept his gaze fixed on the man as he slowly snaked his way towards the heavy desk in-front of him, alert to any potential danger and watching for any signs that indicated that the other occupant was a threat to his life. He wasn't very good at spotting the signs yet, but he knew enough to at least give himself some sort of warning. Harry also knew that his head of house would not attack him, but it always paid to be safe when personal security was concerned, something that one 'Mad-Eye' Moony had been all too happy to point out when they first met._

 _Shaking his head lightly, the youngest Potter male was able to stop his thoughts from wondering onto the mad old Auror, and instead focused them fully on the bat-like man sat opposite him, peering at him with his beady little eyes over the vast expanse of his mighty desk that separated them. The man kept his eyes fixed on the young Potter's own, as if trying to search for something within his violet depths. It was not the stare of a man using Legilimency in an effort to delve into the deepest and darkest corners of another's mind, but rather the stare of a man who knew how to read people like an open book: acquiring all he needed to know about them through a single glance._

 _Unfortunately for him, Harry was not so easy to read._

 _Aforementioned Potter, for his part, held Snape's stare with his own. Just like his head of house, he kept his face neutral and tried to remove any form of remaining emotion from his violet orbs. He didn't want the man trying to trip him up by manipulating and information he could glean from his stare: if only to make things a little bit more difficult for the ex-spy. The two of them sat there like this for almost a minute: one scouting and the other hiding. Eventually though, the eldest of the two realised that he would soon have to speak to his younger charge: and so he did, in a voice as soft and quiet as when he spoke in the common room._

" _So mister Potter, what do you have to say for yourself?"_

 _Harry kept his gaze fixed on the man, knowing that he wanted him to turn away in shame or cut his temper lose, and spill his story on why he attacked Theodore Nott. And if Harry was perfectly honest, he almost felt compelled to. Snape's presence naturally exuded a commanding undertone that you couldn't help but feel compelled to acquis to, if only out of self-preservation. It was undoubtedly one of the man's many traits that allowed him to be an effective spy for Dumbledore's 'Order of the Phoenix'. However, Harry had enough control over his mental state and his own emotions that he didn't allow the man's words to affect him, and instead took a deep and calming breath before he began to recount his tale._

" _Nott was practically begging for a fight all evening, Professor. He tried to bully me out of my seat when he first walked into the room, and when that backfired on him, he then switched to mocking me and my dreams._

 _I can tolerate just about anything, Professor Snape, but one of the few things I cannot stand is having my dreams mocked. And unfortunately, Nott decided to find that out the hard way. Normally I would not have snapped in such a violent manner, but I have had a bit of a…. difficult day, shall we say? Any other time, I would have ignored him, but I just couldn't today…_

 _And I'm sorry for that."_

 _Most of what Harry had said had actually been the outright truth. Nott had been looking for any excuse to show off his hired muscle in Crabbe and Goyle, whilst also flaunting his own magical talent. It just so happened that Harry was a much more powerful wizard than Nott, and probably all of his peers, thanks to his own personal (and brutal) training regime. And as for having a bad day, that stemmed from his dismay at his parents failing to wish him good luck or even give him_ _ **one**_ _hug. They had been sad and he could tell that they did want him to do well, but their failure to communicate these feelings properly was a_ _ **serious**_ _flaw in Harry's opinion. As such, his mood had been extremely bitter and sour when he climbed aboard the Hogwarts express, and it was only thanks to Shirley and Draco's company that he managed to life his mood somewhat._

 _But Nott had brought all of that progress crashing down around him when he decided to pick on Harry._

 _Of course, his real reason for Nott had been because he had looked down on his dream and potential, and tarred him with a brush that painted Harry as a 'born loser'. It had sparked something deep within Harry's soul to hear those words: he had come to Hogwarts to become the strongest living mage, and he would damned before he allowed an arrogant and talentless person such as Nott to look down on him like that. He_ _ **was**_ _going to become the strongest wizard to have ever lived, and he would be damned before he allowed anyone to tell him otherwise. It was his life's goal, his only_ _ **true**_ _desire: for if he became strong enough, then nobody would be able to ignore him anymore, as he would be the name that everybody knew._

 _Nobody in his world would be able to call him weak and a failure, for he would be able to crush them all._

 _Nobody would be able to look down on him, for he would look down at them from beyond the top of the mountain on which all supernatural beings rested._

 _But most importantly…...,_

 _Nobody would be able to harm those closest to him, for he would have the strength to protect them._

 _If he was strong enough, then everything else would fall into place._

' _And it will, eventually.'_

 _Shaking his head lightly, Harry cleared away his thoughts of the future, and instead focused his mind on the present: just in time to catch his head of house's next words._

" _I thought this may be the case, mister Potter. The other…_ _ **reliable**_ _students in the common room informed me that mister Nott was extremely antagonistic towards you throughout the evening, and that he, and I quote from one of them, 'got what was coming to him'."_

 _Here Harry almost let out a mental cheer of joy, thinking that he may well have gotten off scot-free. However, before said mental cheer could manifest itself, the 'Bat of Hogwarts's dungeons' spoke up once again._

" _This does not mean that you shall go unpunished. As unfair as it seems, our….._ _ **illustrious**_ _headmaster has ordered the faculty to be far stricter with such matter, and as such I cannot allow you to walk away from this without a punishment._

 _As wrong as mister Nott and his_ _ **associates**_ _were, you did not have to act so violently. But seeing as you were under severe provocation, I have merely scheduled you a one hour detention for tomorrow evening, whereas Mister Nott and his friends shall suffer far more appropriate punishments." Snape never wavered once from his speech, ignoring Harry's attempts to protest or even ask questions; whilst (seemingly) knowingly answering Harry's questions and dismantling his vehement protests. In all honesty, Harry decided not to say anything else on the matter, considering how eloquently the man had dealt with him seconds previously._

 _Cocking his head to the side, Snape nodded his assent to Harry 'wordless' request to leave the room. Harry raised his slight form from the confines of the high-armed and backed chair, before quickly yet calmly proceeding towards the door that his head-of-house had entered through. But before he allowed the door to close fully behind him, a sudden realization struck Harry. So turning sharply on his heel and grunting slightly in effort as he stopped the door from closing, Harry opened it up enough so that his head was able to fit back through and face his head of house. Said man merely raised an eyebrow at Harry's action, but none-the-less, gestured for him to ask whatever question was plaguing his mind._

" _Sir, who is my detention with?"_

 _The moment the words left his mouth, Harry could have sworn that he caught sight of Snape's lips flickering upwards ever-so-slightly in amusement, whilst his eyes seemed to gain an odd glean to them that Harry could not place. It was as if the man had been expecting Harry to ask the question so that he could tell him, like he had a plan in-place that he wanted to set in motion. The youngest male Potter wanted to refute that idea, but something primal and instinctive was telling him that he may well have been far closer to the truth than he gave credit for. Snape fixed Harry with his beady black eyes before answering the young Potter's question in the same tone of voice he always seemed to speak with._

" _Your detention shall be with…"_

 _(End Flashback) _

* * *

"Quirinus Quirrel: ex vampire-hunter, stray devil slayer and mercenary wizard. And now your new 'Defence against the dark arts' teacher." Quirrel stated in a voice that simply exuded confidence and a commanding aura that compelled you to listen; which is the only reason that Harry was dragged from his thoughts about last night by the man. Shaking his head slightly, Harry focused his full attention onto the man in order to get a full look at him.

Quirrel wore very similar attire as to the clothes he wore at the Sorting ceremony and welcoming feast yesterday: but instead of red robes her wore dark purple and blue, along with his body-armour. The same attentiveness was there as he slowly passed his eyes over the class, as if evaluating their worth, he continued to do this as he resumed his welcoming speech to the group of students, entering a slow and measured bit of pacing back and forth as he allowed his commanding voice to fill the room.

"Unlike other subjects, which will teach you the majority of your spells this year in the safety of a class-room, I will be teaching you how to survive.

Which is why my first rule in this classroom is that you never, _ever_ bring books with you again; a _book_ will not save your sorry hide when fighting against Goblins or Trolls, only well-honed instincts and practices will."

The moment Quirrel had finished his speech, Harry couldn't help but notice a girl raise her hand out of the corner of his eye. She was a member of Gryffindor house (whom the Slytherin's shared Defence and Transfiguration with) and had bushy hair and slightly larger than normal front teeth. She had a stern look on her face that told Harry that she (for whatever reason) did not approve of what Professor Quirrel was telling them. Said ex-mercenary cast the girl a bored look, and gestured with his hands for her to ask whatever question it may be that she had.

"Professor, how on earth can you expect us to write proper notes if we don't have our text-books with us?" She asked, no, _demanded_ in a highly irritating tone of voice that Harry knew would not set her in good stead with other children. Quirrel seemed to almost role his eyes in exasperation before he answered the girl as if speaking to someone with hearing difficulties.

"I said do not bring books to class: which also means no note taking." He answered disinterestedly, earning what Harry assumed was supposed to be a 'glare' from the young girl.

"But then how are we going to revise the theory behind a spell?"

"Simple: you don't. Theory won't save you in the field Miss….." Quirrel trailed off at the end so that she could provide him with her name, which the girl only seemed all too happy to do before launching into yet another complaint about the man's teaching style.

"Granger. Hermione Granger. But then how are we going to be tested at the end of the year?"

"Well miss Granger, I will reveal closer to the time how your exam shall work. But rest assured it shall be complimentary to the style of teaching you shall be subjected to. Now if I might ask that any other question are held _until_ the end, I would appreciate it." The tone which the new Defence teacher used left no room for argument: _no-one_ was going to be interrupting him again in that fashion until he was finished with his little speech. Granger looked like she wanted to protest against the man's words, but before she could so much as say a word, Quirrel shot her a glare that told her there would be no further questions for now, and thus suitably cowed the girl into keeping silent.

After quickly casting his eyes around the room making sure that everyone _else_ understood, Quirrel resumed his pacing and observation of the room's occupants.

"In this new Defence class I will teach you the tricks, skills and spells that have helped keep me alive in my line of work and made me the best. As such, you can expect these classes to be far more demanding both physically and mentally than _any other_ you shall participate in.

As such, the second rule is that there is to be no whining or complaining about _any_ activity undertaken, or I shall see you lose House-points and possibly even earn detentions with me." He stated sternly, earning worried looks from most of the class. Turning to Draco (who he had fortunately sat down next to on auto-pilot), Harry couldn't help but notice that the young boy also had a slightly panic-stricken look on his face at the mention of physical activity.

In Draco's own words…..

' _If you exercising for any reason other than Quidditch, you have a serious problem.'_

Smiling lightly at his compatriots concern, Harry turned his attention back to Quirrel as he resumed his rather interesting speech, which continued to worry or surprise the students in the class, save for seemingly Harry.

"I will show you how to fell the mightiest of foes: send Devils back to the Underworld, destroy the remaining soul of a Fallen or lay low the pure wings of Gods' servants, alongside whatever other beasts I think you should know about.

This world we live in is full of majesty and great beauty, but at the same time it is also unbelievably dangerous and cruel, which is why my final major rule in this classroom is that when I tell you to do or not to do something, there is a _very_ good reason behind why I have told you to do so, and you _will_ adhere to them.

Or I'll see that you never step foot in this classroom ever again, clear?" The tone Quirrel had adopted for the last few moments filled even Harry with a slight sense of fear at the man's threat. His tone was as ice-cold and unwavering as a winter wind: he was completely serous in his threat about making sure that they followed his instructions.

' _Okay, so the man is a consummate professional with a clear goal in mind. It's clear that he does his job with the utmost seriousness and professionalism expected of his role. His attentiveness and weariness as he glanced about the classroom indicates that he is exceptionally well trained and equipped, and if I were to guess based on his movements, he knows how to use his training when it comes to a real life threat._

 _Excellent._

 _Now all I need to see is whether or not he is actually as good of a teacher as he seems capable of being, if these early vibes are to be trusted.'_

Harry stopped thinking just in time to catch his 'potential extra-curricular combat mentor' speaking again, once more to the whole class.

"Now if you'd be so kind as to stand up and throw your bags into a corner, I'd very much like to get this lesson started so that I can assess where you all stand currently."

Complying with his teacher's orders alongside the rest of his class, Harry sprung up from his seat and placed his bag in the back right corner of the bland and boring room they stood in. The main source of light was to the left, which was provided thanks to three large glass windows which allowed sunlight to pour into the room. Failing this, there were also three large chandeliers hanging above them which would more than easily provide enough light for the room.

Turning his attention back to his teacher, Harry watched as the man waved his right hand gently, causing a magical circle to form under each set of desks and chairs. Then, with another hand movement, Quirrel levitated all of the furniture (save for his desk) out of the way with what seemed like incredible ease. Harry knew that most above average witches and wizards of Quirrel's age would also be able to do this, but he couldn't help but appreciate the display of magic; it was beyond what he could do right now, and below where he wanted to be.

' _Perhaps an acceptable benchmark.'_

"Alright class, listen up! I want you back in the centre of the room this instant. Like I said earlier, I need to assess where each and every one of you is currently at, so hurry up will you?" He snapped in an authoritative voice that seemed to put an extra yard of pace into everyone's steps bar Harry and a few others. Joining his peers in the centre of the room, he was disappointed to see that there was a clear divide between Slytherin and Gryffindor students, with the former ignoring the house of Lions, whilst the latter glared hatefully at the house of Salazar's chosen. Quirrel seemed to pick up on this, if the narrowing of his eyes' said anything about his current thoughts, but he chose not to speak out about it and instead focused on delivering his lecture.

"When you find yourself in a battle with a dangerous foe, it is important to remember three crucial things. Can anyone tell me what these three things are?"

Most of the assembled students furrowed their brows in confusion for several seconds before finally several tentative hands were raised. Harry, of course, had a good idea as to what the man was looking for in their answers, but he wanted to see if there was anyone in the room who was of a like mind to him. Quirrel cast a glance at Harry, as if he knew the answers, but chose not to single him out and instead went for one of the raised hands.

"You boy."

"Seamus Finnegan. Errrr….. what your foe is?"

"No, next."

The boy let out a sigh of relief, clearly glad to have just gotten the ball rolling so that the class didn't descend into an awkward silence. Harry smiled lightly as several more hands were raised unsurely into the air, and each answer was shot down after the first point. The answers varied from 'what spells to use' to 'assessing how powerful you foe is'. All in all there was a mixed bag of answers, some of which showed an attempt to grasp the concepts of fighting, others which showed just how ignorant some people were of the real world.

"Duelling etiquette." Pansy Parkinson had said with such an air of confidence that Harry almost snorted in amusement. Quirrel had no such control, and openly laughed at the girls suggestion, before providing the simplest answer that destroyed her point.

"Troll's don't do etiquette, Miss Parkinson."

All in all it appeared none of the class really had any natural fighting instincts like Harry did, and it wasn't long before their incorrect answers elicited a response from the normally rather stoic Potter.

Hermione Granger had put her hand up with an air of confidence that just caused Harry to shake his head, already anticipating what the girls answers would be.

"Miss Granger."

The girl straightened at the mention of her name, a smug smile crossing her lips as she began to recite an answer that sounded awfully familiar to the text-book that the school had order the students to buy. In fact, Harry would go so far as to say that the girl had recited it word for word.

"The three most important factors when engaging in a fight are to know the opponents weakness, select the spells which will allow you to exploit them and finally to subdue your foe as quickly as possible."

Harry merely looked at the girl in disbelief. Her answer was _exactly_ the same as a small paragraph from the book they had been given (which Harry had 'misplaced' out of the window of his compartment on the Hogwarts Express), she didn't even bother to change the phrasing or the tone of the passage. Judging by her smug look, she clearly thought that doing this made her extremely intelligent: which it did not.

' _Anyone can learn a book off-by-heart.'_ Harry thought to himself before he let out a small sigh of exasperation. If this was the only sort of competition he was going to get in this class then he would get bored very quickly.

However, not only did his sigh allow him to alleviate his feelings, it also drew the attention of the entire class towards him, just as he intended. Draco, Tracey, Daphne and Blaise all shot Harry slightly confused looks, whilst the rest of the room stared hatefully at him. Quirrel merely raised an eyebrow in response.

"Something to add mister…"

"Potter, Harry Potter sir. And yes, I wish to add the correct answers so that we can move onto the next stage of your lesson, Professor Quirrel."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

"Do tell, then."

The whole time that he was speaking, Harry did not allow his gaze to wonder from Quirrel's own intense stare, refusing to back down. It was like staring into a raging inferno, so intense was the teacher's cold and calculating stare. It was the stare that had made many wanted witches and wizards merely surrender, instead of risking the dangers of fighting back against him. For deep with the gaze of Quirinus Quirrel lay a maddening hunger, a hunger that Harry only understood too well: the hunger of a man seeking a true challenge, a fight where his life would be in constant danger, a hunger to leave nothing but bloodied stains in his wake. It was the look that only the strongest of the strong in the Wizarding world knew and understood….

For it was the exact same look in their own eyes every day.

Harry wanted to do nothing more than break eye contact with the man and shrink into a corner so that he might be forgotten. But his pride as a fighter would _not_ allow him to do so, nor would his desire and ambition. If he wanted this _monster_ to teach him the things he knew, help him unlock the secrets of ascending the mountain that was the supernatural world, then he could _not_ show the man any form of fear. To do so would mean that he was scared of the men and women who dwelled beyond the masses, and he could not afford to be afraid of them if he intended to become stronger than them.

So he held Quirrel's gaze….

And answered his question.

"The first thing to remember in combat is to understand and exploit the environment however you can. The second is to counteract your opponents strengths with either the environment or your own strengths, thus making them an easier target. Finally, and most importantly, you cannot strike with the intention to incapacitate your foes. You must strike with the intent to hurt them, brutalize them, maim them….

 _Kill them_."

The silence that filled the room after Harry's final words was nearly deafening. Everyone was looking at him with varying degrees of shock (Draco and the more 'tolerable' Slytherin's), fear (the rest of Harry's house) and abject horror (the Gryffindor's). Quirrel was again the only exception: his face a perfectly blank mask as he kept his gaze fixed on the youngest male Potter, a gaze which Harry met. He knew that in order to prove himself to Quirrel, he needed to keep his conviction steadfast and pure: and if that meant weathering _that_ gaze again, then he would do so happily.

Eventually, after what seemed like an age, Quirrel spoke.

"Mr Potter, that is…"

* * *

 _(Daphne Greengrass' P.O.V)_

Daphne Greengrass was a girl who prided herself on her ability to stay calm and collected no matter who she was dealing with. From arrogant pure-blood noblemen to Quidditch super-stars, the young blond girl was easily able to maintain her high standards in terms of emotional control: lips straight and eyes cold, a blank mask which she could use to protect the 'real' version of herself from the rest of the world, save for those she loved and trusted. And yet despite her near-perfect control, the young pure-blood could not help but concede the fact that not only was there yet another person in her life now who seemed able to break her barriers: but also that same person had better emotional control than her.

From the moment she laid eyes on him, Daphne could tell that Harry Potter was completely different from the rest of his family. From what she had seen at official functions, most of the Potter's seemed to be kind, gentle, open and genuinely nice people who were also not afraid to say what was on their mind. They were the kind of people you dreamed about having for friends, and feared making enemies out of. And yet Harry was none of these things: he seemed cold, calculating, extremely cagey and (if last night's outburst was anything to go by) unafraid of using violence to solve his problems. It was an odd dichotomy in Daphne's opinion: after all, surely Harry would want to follow in his elder sisters' and brother's footsteps, and yet here he was seemingly doing everything in his power to appear as their polar opposite. It made no sense to the girl, but then again she had no idea as to who the _real_ Harry Potter was, and as such she could not say that this was unexpected of him as an _individual_ but rather middle children in general.

Hell, her own mother often spoke of how she had grown up looking up to her older sister, Daphne's auntie. It seemed to be the natural thing to do, and yet Potter chose to ignore it.

' _It's almost as if he doesn't want to be like them at all….. like he wants to be different.'_

And if that wasn't surprising enough, then there was his apparent fearlessness and emotional control.

Yesterday evening entertainment aside (which Daphne would freely admit to having enjoyed), Daphne would also (grudgingly) admit that Potter also seemed to have far better emotional control than her, if his staring match with their new Professor was anything to go by. She could barely look at the man's intense gaze for three seconds before panic and fear began to creep through her body, forcing her mask to drop and display the fear she felt. It was impossible for anyone to meet that _monster's_ gaze and not feel a damned thing, and yet Harry Potter was holding fast, refusing to give up his staring contest. It was as if he felt he had something to _prove_ to someone, and that doing this was the only way in which he would be able to do so. Combine this with their apparent mutual dislike of one Theodore Nott and his cronies, and Daphne couldn't help but let the tiniest of smile's grace her lips for a split second.

' _Hmmm, I'll have to probe around later on. You're an interesting person Harry Potter, one I look forward to hopefully getting to know …. provided Quirrel doesn't incinerate you with his glare, that is.'_

The Greengrass heiress would have continued with her internal musing, but before she could truly delve into them, Professor Quirrel finally spoke.

"Mister Potter, that is…."

The pause that followed caused just about everybody in the room to hold their breath: the Slytherin's (mostly) in hope that he was right and was about to win them their first house-points of the year, and the Gryffindor's so that they would be able to laugh at Harry when his odd answer was rejected.

Unfortunately for the house of Lions, Lady Luck was not on their side.

"….absolutely one hundred percent correct: Ten points to Slytherin."

Daphne let out a small sigh of relief along with the rest of her house, whilst the Gryffindor's mostly groaned in disappointment. However, before Quirrel could continue, the same girl who had been asking questions earlier (Hermione if Daphne remembered correctly), voiced her outrage at the Professor's statement.

"Professor! That's not the answer in out text-books; and furthermore, how on Earth could you possibly condone the notion of killing someone…." Her voice had started off as angry and wrathful, but it had slowly become dropped in volume and aggression until it petered out as mere whimper under Quirrel's gaze. Turning his bored gaze away, the young teacher strode to the front of the class before he answered the young girl.

"Textbooks won't save you when a vampire comes knocking, miss Granger. Only the will to survive and do what you must will. A textbook can tell you how its writer _thinks_ you should do things: but they are guidelines for an ideal situation, a situation that will almost certainly never occur in the real world.

Subjugation….heh, don't even get me started on doing that over killing. Half the reason so many people died during the first Blood Purity war was due to the fact that a lot of Aurora's struggled with the idea of killing their foe, and wound up dead themselves. When you fight against an enemy witch or wizard, there are no rules or regulations, and nothing says either of you has to walk away alive.

Killing is not something you should ever take pleasure in: it is just a sad fact that we have to do it in our world in order to survive."

The man's speech left no room for argument, and Daphne, like most of the class, simply allowed Quirrel's words to sink into her skull for further contemplation. She may have been eleven years old, but she was wise to concepts such as killing; she had just never given it too much thought before. And she wasn't given very long at that moment either, because before she could delve into an in-depth 'discussion' about the topic, Quirrel interjected and dragged the group of eleven year olds out of their impending depression.

"Any ways, that's enough focus on all of this depressing stuff: that's something we can handle when you're all a little older and mature. For now I advise that you all grab some cheap work-out clothes when you next can. This time I'll transfigure your robes … I need to assess your fitness levels…..

So let's get to it!"

* * *

 _(With Draco and Harry, two hours later)_

"I fricking hate Quirrel! How the hell can he expect us to focus for our other lessons when he makes us run our guts out and all that….. crap, I think I might be sick again."

"Aim out of the window Draco, unless you want daddy to pay a cleaning-bill."

"Fuck you."

"Temper now." Harry chided Draco cheekily, earning a snarl of anger from the aforementioned Malfoy, who was doing his absolute best to _not_ bring up whatever was left of his breakfast. His stomach had been queasy ever since their first lesson, and it still didn't seem too keen to settle down: and yet it also still seemed to be demanding food at the same time.

"You know those may just be hunger pains or something: you can get them if you work out really hard and don't eat anything." Harry tried to supply helpfully. Draco merely groaned at his friendliest acquaintance, before forcing the pain and queasiness out of his mind and instead focusing on what had transpired during his first day at Hogwarts.

The 'fitness test' that Quirrel had been all but torture in name for most of the class: shuttles down the surprisingly long room which were complemented by a set of ten sit-ups, press-ups or jumping-jacks when one reached either end of the room. Most of the class dropped out after three or four shuttles. Draco had managed to stay out for a fair bit longer thanks to the fitness he had obtained via playing so much Quidditch. But even then, he had been struggling before long, and he felt all but stupid when he compared himself to Harry Potter.

The boy was like a machine: he was still going pretty strong long after the rest of the class had dropped from exhaustion. He was obviously tiring, but it would have taken a while longer before he reached the same damned physical state as the rest of the class. It was an impressive sight really: not once did a grunt of discomfort or a moan of pain make its way past the youngest Potter's lips. Had Draco not known any better, he would have thought that the boy was popping potions like there was no tomorrow. But Draco knew for a fact that he wasn't.

And that made it all the more impressive.

In fact, Draco would go so far as to say that the only people who could match Harry in terms of fitness would be the Quidditch players at the school: and even then quite a lot of them would be hard-pressed to keep up with Harry.

Said Potter let out a small sigh as they continued walking before he decided to speak to a now (somewhat) recovered Draco.

"You know what, I'm surprised that my _dear family_ hasn't come to check on me yet, what with the whole being sorted in to Slytherin and all." He commented blandly, causing Draco's eyes to narrow slightly and his brow to furrow in slight confusion at the you Potter's words.

' _What the hell is that supposed to mean. The whole sentence had a sarcastic undertone and he placed way too much emphasis on the family quip… I wonder if he's trying to level our relationship out a little bit. My comments about my own family probably drew his own curiosity, and this is probably his way of telling me that he's willing to hear me out, as long as I do the same.'_ Draco thought to himself as he continued to ponder Harry's words.

It was true that he may have allowed his slight distaste for his father to bleed into his earlier conversations with Harry, but it was all intentional, like Harry's own words.

In pure-blood culture, when two people decided that they may well be true 'allies' (I.E: Best friends), it was customary to reveal one extremely personal secret about yourself to the other person. It was to show a clear level of trust that the person may not even have with their own family: and given the volatile and shady world in which they lived, such an act was not to be undertaken lightly. However, Draco could honestly say without a doubt that Harry was the best choice to make as a best friend: they already got on very well and the trust clearly went both ways in their relationship thus far.

He would have to talk to the youngest Potter male later about all of this, when they were in their room. Harry was the sort of person most people would kill for if it meant having him watching their back if his current attitude was real.

Draco continued to ponder this as the two of them travelled in an agreeable silence to the Great-Hall, neither willing to break it as they continued on their way. Eventually, the two of them arrived at the main-entrance to the Great-Hall, but before either of them could enter the ancient building's famous hall, a somewhat familiar voice called out to the two of them.

"Potter, Malfoy; please wait."

Turning around, Draco couldn't help but let his eyes narrow slightly as he spotted the blond heiress of the Greengrass family and her best friend, Tracey Davis, walking towards himself and Harry who's eyes had also narrowed slightly.

"What do you want, Greengrass?" Draco asked calmly and almost cordially, doing his absolute best to prevent any form of argument between them. The girl merely raised an elegant eyebrow before she decided to respond to the young Malfoy's words.

"I just wished to ask if you would not mind me and Tracey joining you for lunch today."

"And why would you wish to do that, Greengrass? Last time I checked, you didn't want anything to do with a 'filthy blood-purist' like myself." Draco replied coolly, earning a set of narrowed eyes from the two girls as they tried to match his own steely gaze. Their last true 'encounter' had been at an official function in which Draco had to assume his 'perfect' pureblood mask in-order to avoid the ire of his father. Naturally, some of the things he had said appalled him… and Daphne Greengrass had also made her distaste for his words known quite clearly.

"I know and I apologize for my behaviour. It was … unfair of me to judge you with so many other _factors_ influencing the evening, and I would like to take the chance to not only get to know _you_ but also Potter. After all, me and Tracey would look rather silly if we only hung out with each-other." Daphne replied with the tiniest of smiles gracing her lips, causing Draco's eyes to widen slightly.

' _She knows I'm not like my father? How? Wait…. of course. It's because I'm hanging out with Harry! God how the hell could I have been so stupid as to have not seen this coming?_

 _Ah well, it's not like this is really a bad situation to be in really. A couple of extra people to watch our backs for the next few years would be bloody useful: and considering the power behind both their names, it'll just further add to our strength.'_

"And I apologize for my behaviour that evening as well, _circumstances_ aside. It was unbecoming of me and I should have acted in a manner more befitting of a person of my station. As such, I would be more than happy to have lunch with you, providing Harry here is happy too." Draco responded confidently after his mini internal discussion, whilst turning to aforementioned Potter, who merely shrugged his shoulders in the universal sign for 'I don't care' carelessly. Draco couldn't help but smile when he saw the happy faces of Daphne and Tracey who both looked excited at the opportunity, although Daphne's was more a tiny smirk as opposed to Tracey's full-blown smile.

The group came together and made their way into the great-hall, which was currently pretty empty, save for a few small groups splattered around each of the tables, with the concepts of 'House tables' disappearing as students from all houses talked with their friends at different tables. The group of Slytherin first-years were about to make their way over to Salazar's table, but before they could, they were stopped by a distinctly older feminine voice calling after one of their number.

"Harry!"

Turning around, Draco couldn't help but feel his eyes narrow slightly as the three eldest Potter children came marching towards their group. The red-headed girl and the boy both looked slightly angry and concerned, whilst the black-haired female who had called out to Draco's new 'friend' maintained a neutral expression on her face as they reached the Slytherin quartet. Eventually, they paused their march some two or three feet away, each keeping their gaze focused solely on Harry: who for his part, did not look phased by their expressions.

"Can I help you, _sister_?" He asked in a fairly neutral tone, although the youngest Potter allowed some bitterness to enter his voice when he said the word sister. Narrowing his eyes slightly, Draco filled that piece of information away for later before refocusing his attention on the ongoing conversation.

Harry's siblings all seemed slightly taken aback by his tone of voice, but to their credit none of them allowed it to affect them.

"We just want to talk, Harrykins. See how your settling in and all of that jazz." The brother responded with a small smile. Harry seemed to glare at him for several tense seconds before responding in his usually calm and collected tone of voice.

"I'm busy at the moment, can't this wait until tomorrow?" He asked tersely, eliciting a shake of the head from all three of his eldest siblings.

"It's tradition."

' _Hah, tradition my arse! They just want to make sure that Harry isn't a dark wizard in the making or falling into the lies of the Malfoy household: god they couldn't be more obvious unless they had a banner with their intentions written on it.'_ Draco thought to himself bitterly as he began to panic slightly internally; what if they managed to sway Harry? What if they filled his head with lies and made Harry hate him? There were so many possible outcomes to this situation, and very few of them had an ending that even came close to resembling positive. All Draco could do was hope and pray that one of the more favourable endings played out.

Harry kept his face neutral before he seemed to resign himself to the fact he would have to accompany his elder siblings.

"Fine, but this had better not take too long." Harry growled out, earning a small nod of the head from his eldest sister who gestured with her head to follow her. The youngest Potter male turned to Draco and their two new companions before offering a small smile to them all, as if to re-assure them that he wouldn't allow anything to change or sway him.

"You guys go on ahead, I'll be back before you even know it."

And with that, Harry turned around and followed his elder siblings out of the great Hall, leaving and anxious Draco and two curious witches behind….

Whilst a third set of eyes watched on, unnoticed by anyone else.

* * *

 _(With Harry and his siblings)_

Harry couldn't help but let out a small sigh of frustration as his siblings dragged him away from the Great Hall and out into the Hogwarts ground. Eventually, the four of them stopped on a gorgeous old stone bridge that spanned the gap between the southern planes of the school and the main Castle. The whole structure was covered by a roof and the sides were decorated by hundreds of images, each one of famous battles fought by legendary figures in the Supernatural world. From the first battle between God and the Four Mao that produced the Rocky mountain range to the legendary battle between Metatron and Kokabiel that levelled Holland's mountains: they were all there.

Harry allowed the detailed images and stories to capture his attention for a few moments whilst Rose cast several spells that would keep their conversation from being overheard and also deter people from using bridge. Harry kept his focus on the carvings until his siblings finally pulled him out his thoughts.

"Harry."

Shaking his head lightly, Harry focused his attention on his eldest sibling Iris, who had fixed her younger sibling with a determined and (what Harry assumed was supposed to be) frightening stare, which was complemented by his elder brother. Rose's face was kept in an impassive mask as she looked at Harry which annoyed him slightly: he was used to seeing the girl as an easy to read, bubbly character. So for her to reign in her emotions meant that she viewed this all as a serious issue.

A tense silence slowly settled over the group, Iris and co trying to make Harry feel slightly uneasy, whilst Harry maintained his stone-faced visage, refusing to give them what they wanted. Eventually though, Iris realised that they couldn't just all stand there in absolute silence for hours on end as they waited for someone else to start the conversation, and as such decided to take the first step and broke the uneasy silence that was slowly suffocating them.

"You need to speak to the Headmaster about changing Houses and you have to stop hanging around with Draco Malfoy."

The moment those words left Iris' lips, Harry was forced to allow his eyes to narrow slightly and a small downwards quirk of the lips to take place. Although he looked only mildly annoyed, deep down Harry was absolutely livid with his sister.

' _How dare she. How FUCKING dare she? After all these years, NOW she wants to take an interest in my life?_

 _No, screw that! This isn't an interest in me, this is just a way to vent some hatred towards Slytherin. It's absolutely pathetic. I'm my own person, I don't need some jumped up git like her, Rose or Alex trying to tell me what I should do with my life. I know this has probably come straight from mother and father, but to be honest I do not care for what they have to say. Nobody is going to hurt me whilst I'm friends with Draco, and besides that I will NOT live in their shadows anymore….._

 _But what if they're right and Slytherin is too dangerous?'_

The moment that one thought entered his mind, he felt something else creep up from the deepest and darkest depths of his mind, speaking to him in a hissing whisper that seemed to echo from everywhere and no-where.

' _ **They have never once taken an interest in you. The only reason they are doing so now is because they want you to remain in their shadow for as long as you live, Harry. They're scared because they cannot even being to fathom your desires, your needs or your goals, or even the full extent of your potential. You can become the strongest Wizard to ever walk the face of this Earth, but you cannot afford to let your siblings hold you back.'**_

"I'm sorry but I won't be doing that, _Iris._ "

"What?/ Are you joking?" Iris and Alexander both spluttered in surprise at Harry's response. Harry himself was also slightly shocked that he had been so blunt with his sister, but the more aggressive portion of his mind (which is what he assumed the source of the second argument) had compelled him to do so. And soon after, Harry realised why. He needed to present an affronted image so that when these talks broke down, he could have some peace and quiet for a few weeks: after all, they wouldn't want to push him any further than they were, lest they create a bigger problem.

Recovering from his own slight personal confusion, Harry hardened his heart as he responded to his siblings.

"I said I will not change Houses, nor will I stop hanging out with Draco. I am happy where I am and my acquaintance has done me no harm, so why should I just turn on him?" He stated coolly, causing Iris and Alexander to snap out of their stupors before regaining enough of their wits to respond to him.

"What the hell Harry? Slytherin is dangerous for someone like you, let alone socialising with a Malfoy!" Alexander responded hotly, earning him an apathetic look from Harry as he responded to his brothers passionate words with his own.

"What do you mean _someone like me_? And second of all, aren't all three of you always preaching about how you shouldn't judge a book by its cover? Bit hypocritical of you to stop me hanging out with someone just because of their family name, isn't it?" He retorted sternly, earning a snarl of frustration from his brother who already looked ready to flip his lid. But before he could launch into it, Iris filled the silence with her own words.

"Harry, I know it seems silly and I know you think your strong, but Slytherin is a dangerous house for someone who's family is so aligned with the 'light'. Mum and Dad agree with us completely on this by the way.

Please Harry, we just want to make sure your safe. Your our little brother and we want nothing more than to make sure you have a fantastic time at Hogwarts, like we've had." She intoned gently, her voice trying to convey a fully honest message to her youngest brother. However, unfortunately for the eldest Potter sibling, her young brother paid her no words no mind as the aggressive part of his mind filled his head again once again.

' **Protect you? Protect you? You know that's nothing more than an absolute lie: a way of trying to keep you under their control and therefore in their shadow. After all, in any other of the Houses, they'll be able to keep a far closer eye on you and therefore inhibit your training when it strays into more dangerous territory. You cannot let that happen! If you ever want to step out of their shadow, you cannot let them control you, for it will eventually destroy you.**

 **Those fools would see your potential squandered in mediocrity, just to ensure their own favouritism. You speak of how you wish to surpass your siblings….**

 **And this is where your journey MUST begin.**

 **Ignore their orders, temper your will and remove the loyalty you feel you owe them. Family they may be in blood, but that does not mean they have the right to order you around like some sort of servant!**

 **Sever the chains and begin your journey!'**

The words struck something deep within Harry. The burning passion he had developed to become the best was now gone, replaced with a roaring inferno of wild passion and determination.

It was right.

 _He_ was right.

His so-called family wanted to do nothing more than dig their claws into his life and crush his ambition so that he would never attempt to surpass them. But he would not let them, he would fight against their manipulations until he was little more than a cold corpse buried six feet under. And so it was with a will stronger than Angelic steel or the walls of Hell that the youngest Potter male responded to his sisters words.

"I don't care Iris. None of you have the right to tell me how to live my life: not the House I am in or the people I can hang out with.. None of you hold any sway over my life any more as far as I am concerned.

I'm my own person now: not the shadow cow-tailing to your achievements you want me to be." His words carried an edge to them that caused even his normally unflappable sister to flinch in shock at his harsh and cold words. Her face held a hurt look, whilst his brother looked just outright shocked and mortified by his words. Not even bothering to wait for a response, Harry turned on his heels and made to walk away from them all, but before he could do so, a third voice that he had completely forgotten about called after him.

"Harry James Potter. You _will_ listen to what we have to say and you _will_ do as we have asked. I don't _care_ how you feel about this personally, but in time you will realize that this is for your own good." Rose stated in an eerily calm voice that caused Harry to stop mid stride and turn to face his second eldest sibling. Her face was blank and her eyes hard as she spoke, but the aura she was giving of clearly conveyed what she expected from him in this situation.

Obedience.

He always knew that Rose was capable of being harsh and authoritative when the situation called for it, but she didn't like to show it so Harry rarely saw this side of her. And had she spoken these words not two minutes earlier, and Harry may well have caved under the pressure and at least _tried_ to appease his siblings. But unfortunately for Rose, her young brother was now fully committed to his objective, and not even her chastising would stop him.

"No, Rose. I won't. I'm through with this conversation, so don't even _try_ to say anything else.

And don't try and talk to me until your heads are out of your arses."

And with that he resumed his walk, his strides more confident and purposeful than they had ever been, much to the horror and shock of his siblings.

And the absolute delight of one on-looking figure.

* * *

 _(Later that evening, with Harry)_

Harry couldn't help but growl in frustration as the staircases slowly changed so that he would be able to reach the location of his detention. The damned stairs seemed to be bloody keen on making everyone's life as annoying and miserable as possible by constantly changing where they were: often leading to students getting trapped for ages until they changed back.

And right now, the seemingly sentient staircases seemed dead-set on pissing Harry off and making him as late as possible for his detention with Professor Quirrel. The moment his feet had hit solid and unchanging ground again, the youngest Potter quickly broke into a fast jog down the corridor that would lead him to his assigned room, all whilst letting his mind wonder free to the events that had transpired earlier today.

After breaking free from his siblings and their infuriating interference, Harry had not returned to the Great Hall in the best of moods: something that his present company quickly picked up on. After assuring them that he had ignored the words of his siblings, the group had proceeded to switch their conversation from such a sensitive topic to far more mundane things such as Quidditch, the newest spells and their first impressions of the school thus far. Any other time and Harry would have considered such chatter idle and completely pointless: but given the near argument he had not long ago, anything was a welcome distraction.

And that lasted until their afternoon lessons: Transfiguration and 'History of magic'. The former was merely a safety lesson in which McGonagall had them all learn what she expected of them, along with proper safety procedures. After all, whilst Transfiguration was not as dangerous as any of the Destruction magics that existed (as Harry could firmly attest to) or even Alchemy, it was still one of the most dangerous subject at Hogwarts. And that meant safety had to come first: even if you were a magical child and knew what you were doing already.

History of Magic on the other hand, had been almost a complete waste of time. The old _ghost_ who taught the subject, Professor Binns, had briefly outlined the course for the year: starting off with the history of humanity and the three factions, and finishing with their role in the legendary 'Great War'. However, the monotone ghost had also managed to stray from his introduction and onto a prank that he had played whilst he was alive. Naturally, that whittled out the time until the bell rang and he kicked them out so that they could go to dinner.

' _I hope we actually start some material next time. I'm bloody fed-up of listening to all of this nonsense: I just want to do something interesting!'_ The young man thought to himself agitatedly, before eventually arriving outside of the door he had first entered in order to reach Quirrel's classroom.

Stopping at the door, Harry couldn't help but let a small wave of suspicion and foreboding to roll over his mind when he reached the door. Pulling his hand away from the handle, Harry took several steps back from the door before mulling over the sudden paranoia that had overcome is mind.

' _Something is not right here. Something is not right at all. There's something fishy going on here, but I can't go back and ask for any help because I'll just get in trouble with the teachers, and I can't stand out here like a lemon, on the off-chance that I'm right…_

 _No, somethings wrong here. I need to trust myself and my instincts: because if I can't even do that, then how can I expect to become the strongest wizard to have ever lived._

 _Alright then, I need a plan.'_

Closing his eyes momentarily, Harry quickly recalled as much information as he could about the room before he began to plan for a worst-case possible scenario. Eventually, after several seconds of thought, the youngest male Potter took a deep breath and strode towards the door, whilst subtly charging magic into his body so that he would be able to immediantly retaliate the moment something went wrong.

The room itself was still as well lit as it had been earlier, and the tables and chairs had been restored to their original positions. Everything appeared to be almost normal….. except for one thing.

' _Where's Quirrel?'_

And it was a fait question to ask. The legendary mercenary was no-where to be seen in the room, despite its normal appearance. That put Harry instantly on-guard the moment he realised it: after all, the man was apparently very punctual, so the chances of him being late to a detention were incredibly slim. So it was with a small, calming breath that Harry walked into the room, eyes gently scanning the room as he entered, scanning for potential threats. And whilst his eyes did not see any…

"SHIT!"

His sense most certainly did.

The moment his eyes faced the right hand side of the room, Harry felt a spike of magical energy that was most certainly not his own. As such, the youngest Potter immediantly threw himself to the floor behind several desks just as a moderately sized ball of fire sailed into the space where his torso had just been.

The moment his body hit the floor and his mind registered consciously that it was now in combat, Harry's thoughts were replaced by simple tactical awareness and the plan that he had come up with upon entering the room.

Scrambling along the floor, Harry kept moving until he finally reached a rather heavy looking desk that was nearer the front of the classroom and would offer him some protection. Whilst the damned thing may catch fire, it would at least stop a fireball from ripping straight through Harry by dampening its kinetic energy. It wasn't much: but in these types of situations, any cover tended to be good cover.

Pressing his back against the desks side, Harry immediately waved his right hand, generating a silver magical seal underneath his body which then proceeded to encase his form in a thin silver outline that soon faded. It was a simple noise-cancelling spell that illusion mages could use in order to mask the sounds of their movements, and therefore offer them the opportunity to surprise their opponent with a far more aggressive spell when the chance arose.

Spell in place, Harry charged his magic once again before leaning out from his cover, and firing several low-powered bolts of lightning into various areas of the room. The plan was to try and force the opponent to retaliate and therefore give Harry the chance to begin cornering them before finishing them off with a blast of his destruction magic. Unfortunately for Harry, his opponent seemed to have reflexes that defied the laws of nature, for the moment he finished his final attack, Harry was forced to duck back into cover as a far more powerful bolt of lightning slammed into the wall behind him. Brining his arms up, the youngest male Potter was forced to protect his eyes and ears from damage due to the dust and shrapnel that the spell had produced.

The moment the barrage of debris stopped, Harry brought his hands up and allowed another magical seal to form in-front of him. However, the effects of the spell this time were far more different; for instead of manipulating the elements or silencing his movements, Harry's action instead produced a copy of himself.

It was a Japanese spell known as a 'Bushin' or 'Flash Clone' in Europe. It was simply a copy of a person that was completely intangible, couldn't interact with the world and could be dispelled with little effort. And yet despite these flaws, Flash Clones were exceptionally useful as they were easy to make and could cause enough of a distraction for a mage to implement another spell.

Taking a deep breath, Harry allowed his mind and soul to settle before he sent the clone away from where his assailant was, whilst he charged towards them.

As he expected the figure rose up and ignored the real Harry in favour of the fake one, assuming that he was trying to confuse his opponent with a pathetic ruse: when in actuality they were being double-bluffed. The figure was wearing all-black and grey combat robes and armour, indicating that this person was some sort of professional, whilst a hood concealed the man's face (if the assigned gender was correct, judging by the person's frame).

The hooded figure unleashed a powerful fireball again which _would_ have smashed straight into the Flash Clone's body, but instead simply phased through it and into the wall behind, whilst causing the clone to dispel into a small cloud of mist. The figure took a step back in slight shock as they realised what had just happened, and before they could even think about reacting, Harry launched a far more intense barrage of powerful bolts of lightning. The attacks flashed across the gap between the two humans with such speed that Harry was certain that they would find their mark.

However, that certainty was crushed when the figure brought their hands together and a bright-green magical circle appeared in front of them with a think green field in-front of it, shielding the figure from the furious lightning bolts by either deflecting them or simply taking the hits and refusing to shatter. The sight left Harry utterly dumbstruck for several moments as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. There should have been no way for his opponent to dodge, let alone throw up a shield of that power. In fact, Harry was so dumbstruck by his opponents physical prowess that he failed to notice the returning shot until it was far too late.

Pumping what magic he could into his body, Harry tried to brace himself for the incoming bolts of lightning. Yet despite his best efforts, the best that the young Potter heir could manage to do was not scream out in agony as his entire body spazemed as it was sent flying through the air. The impacts themselves had caused Harry's bones to creak and groan under the strain, much in the same manner the back of his ribs and his spine groaned when he slammed into the wall behind him. And if that wasn't bad enough for Harry, not only was the air driven from his lungs by the impact, but his head also took a strong enough blow to give the young Potter male a concussion.

' _Shit…. I…..I can't…..see straight.'_

Harry's head was spinning and his stomach felt as if it was ready to release its contents back up his throat within seconds. His vision had taken on a sickly yellow tint that just helped to compound in Harry's mind just _how_ dangerous his situation had now become.

' _Fuck! This arsehole's completely outclassing me. I doubt they'd be stupid enough to let me escape, so my only chance of making it through this is to land a lucky shot and take this shit-head down before he can kill me.'_ Harry thought to himself as calmly and clearly as he could, given his situation and physical condition. His mind was mostly in disarray right now, but the one thing that he knew for certain was that he needed to buy himself some time so that he could clear his head and formulate an actual plan.

So turning his gaze upwards, Harry unleashed several powerful bolts of lightning at the ceiling above him: specifically at the chandeliers that provided the room with its light. The moment the spells struck, the entire room was plunged into an inky darkness that Harry quickly took advantage of.

Carefully crawling along the floor, he used the cover of the darkness to maneuverer himself until he was finally hidden firmly behind Quirrel's desk. He took several deep breaths in an effort to try and steady his unstable vision, but he found his efforts to be futile as it refused to settle down for even a split second.

' _Damn it! I must've hit my head far harder than I thought. This really isn't a good situation to be in: but it's not impossible. I just have to keep thinking and stay alive long enough to put any thoughts into practice._

 _There's always a way out of a situation: you've just got to search for it.'_

After finally somewhat settling his nerves, Harry went to move from behind his cover, but before he could do so, he was once again forced to dive back behind his make-shift cover as a veritable storm of spells slammed into the air above where his head had just been, showering the area behind the desk in a thick coating of dust and shrapnel that teared Harry's exposed skin. Gritting his teeth, Harry let forth a string of cusses as his position was continuously pounded for several more seconds before the spell fire abated. Realizing that his opponent had managed to pin him down, Harry couldn't help but narrow his eyes slightly in confusion.

' _How the hell did the arsehole see me? Unless…..'_

With realization suddenly striking him, Harry allowed himself several more moments of peace, before he began to strain his vision in an attempt to try and find something to pop over the top of Quirrel's desk. He had an idea as to how his opponent had managed to corner him so quickly, but it would take one piece of evidence for him to confirm his theory.

Grabbing a hold of a thick chunk of rock, Harry threw it straight up into the air, only to watch it get blasted into dust by a fireball from the right of the room. Smirking to himself, Harry released another bout of magic into his Flash Clone spell, this time creating three clones instead of one. It put a dent in his magical reserves, but it didn't drain enough to make the next stage of his plan unviable.

Immediantly summoning forth more magic, Harry soon found himself under greater mental exertion as he focused on creating not one, but two magical seals: one silver and the other a pure white that actually emitted a large amount of magical power. Harry had poured a good deal of his remaining magical reserves into this spell: this was an all or nothing gamble. His opponent had the speed, agility, magical power and reserves advantage over him, which left him only with his potential intellect advantage. It wasn't a lot to go with, but great Wizards had to make do with what they had in tight situations.

' _And I'm going to be a great Wizard.'_

Using brief mental commands, Harry immediantly sent out his three Flash clones in different directions. Gently peaking his head out from behind his cover, Harry waited until he finally saw what he was looking for.

A magical seal.

It wasn't large at all: perhaps no bigger than two palms placed side by side. However, it was large enough and colourful enough to be visible against the inky blackness that had enveloped the room.

And it was enough.

Thrusting his right hand forward, Harry immediantly averted his gaze as a bright white light was shot forth from the silver magical seal, bathing the room in the light of day as he called out the name of the spell.

" _ **Lumos!"**_

After several seconds, when the light from the 'Lumos' had dimmed somewhat, Harry turned around and found exactly what he was looking for. His opponent crying out in pain and confusion whilst vigorously rubbing his eyes.

' _Looks like he was using a night-eye spell to see in the dark. Good thing it functions like the muggle goggles, otherwise I'd be a sitting duck right now.'_ Harry thought to himself with a small sense of satisfaction before thrusting his left hand forward, pumping even more magic into the spell to ensure that this would be the decisive blow. Harry knew very well that this could potentially kill his assailant, but as far as the youngest Potter was concerned, this was now purely about survival. There may have been two people in the room at that moment, but he would be more than happy to half that number right now.

Eventually, after a couple more seconds of increasing the spells power, Harry finally unleashed it …. all whilst uttering one simple word at the same time.

" _ **Crash."**_

The wave of magic that was unleashed from the seal could only be described as pure destruction. Whilst noted as being not as potent as the legendary _power of destruction_ which was wielded by the Devil clan called the Bael, 'Devastation magic' was easily a match for its Underworld counterpart in terms of the carnage it could rend on its enemies and the environment, as the classroom could attest to.

The attack seemed to cover the room from one wall to the other, presenting nothing more than a pure white wall of untameable magic to Harry's foe. As it sped forwards, it consumed everything in its path like some sort of wild animal. Tables, chairs and countless other objects that were reinforced to be far stronger than their mortal counterparts were completely atomized as the wall of pure _destruction_ turned them into little more than dust or ash, sweeping all before it like a tidal wave.

Ducking back down, Harry barely managed to get back down behind his missing professors desk just as the spell impacted.

 **BOOOOOOOOOM!**

The reason behind Harry seeking cover was less about the potential for debris, but rather the potential for pressure damage from the gale-force winds that were produced by the spells ending. The air of the classroom seemed to have been replaced with a small gale as air raced towards Harry at such a pace that it caused even the heavy desk that he was sat behind to inch forward quite a distance. Eventually, the winds died down and Harry decided to take a look at the effects of his final spell. Every single piece of cover in the room had simply been annihilated, whilst the wall at the opposite end of the room now sported countless fissure marks. In fact, it was so damaged that Harry would wager that if he were to throw a rock at it, the entire wall would shatter into a billion pieces.

Smirking to himself, Harry couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief as he realised that he had just beaten his foe.

Or so he thought.

Before he could make his way towards the door and back out into the hallways, Harry barely managed to pick up the sound of someone moving behind him.

And the next thing he knew was darkness.

* * *

 _(Twenty minutes later) _

Quirinus Quirrel couldn't help but smirk to himself as he turned away from his newly repaired and re-furnished classroom, and towards the young man that had devastated the room so fully.

The first thing that the world-famous mercenary had done upon subduing Harry was to heal any of his potential injuries and make sure that there would be no marks of his test left. Fortunately, the worst injuries that the boy had sustained were little more than a concussion and several large cuts from the debris that had been thrown about the room during the time that the youngest male Potter had fought.

And he fought well indeed.

Quirrel had fought against some of the strongest beings in the supernatural world, and work alongside many more. He had battled and killed prodigies and legendary foes, and he had helped train just as many. And yet none of them had what Harry Potter had: the one thing that Quirrel had been searching for in as he continued to carve his name into the supernatural world.

 _The spark._

Simply put, 'The spark' was a combination of two things: natural talent and an indomitable will. When either one was taken in isolation, they helped to produce awesome warriors and leaders who would be well remembered. But in order to become a true legend, to be remembered for all time: one had to have both of these traits.

And it was clear to Quirrel that his potential apprentice had both in spades, as indicated by his sorting into Slytherin and his performance in their lesson earlier that same day. The boy also clearly wished to learn from him, if his actions during the first part of the lesson were anything to go by.

The way Harry met his gaze head on and refused to flinch, the answers that he gave and the way he pushed himself showed Quirrel that the boy was certainly worth at least giving an examination: so he decided to use the detention they had scheduled as a means to test the boy when he was thrown into a hostile situation.

And the results were beyond Quirrel's wildest dreams.

From the moment he had stepped into the room, it was clear to the mercenary turned teacher that Harry Potter was no ordinary child. The way he scanned the room, charged his magic and reacted when his 'Shadow Clone' attacked him showed just how much natural potential the boy had, alongside how well he had managed to train himself thus far. That combined with his simple yet brilliant strategies, merciless fighting style and impressive magical power (which made Quirrel thankful he had erected noise and magic suppression wards around the room), gave the legendary mercenary all the evidence he needed to make up his mind.

He would train Harry Potter.

' _The boy has the potential to become something truly magnificent: a Mage the likes of which this world has not seen since Merlin or the founders themselves. And if he's to weather the coming storms in his life, then I need to make sure he gets the best start possible.'_ Quirrel thought to himself within a small, isolated section of his mind. In another part, the man allowed his Occlumency shields to drop slightly so that another presence could enter his mind.

' _ **The boy is strong, Quirinus.'**_ A snake like voice hissed into the portion of his mind that he allowed it access to. Within this portion of his mind, Quirrel allowed a happy and subservient front to interact with the voice.

' _He is indeed, my lord. He will make a fine addition to your ranks, should he choose to join us.'_ Quirrel replied quietly, making sure not to let his true feelings slip into the part of his mind where he was communicating with the voice, which proceeded to let out a small hum of approval at Quirrel's words.

' _ **Yes, yes he will. His drive, ambition and resentment will make him easy to manipulate and use against his family: just like earlier.'**_ The voice hissed gleefully causing Quirrel to snarl angrily within the shielded parts of his mind. He had argued that using Legilimency against the boy may tip him off to someone trying to manipulate him, but the voice of his 'master' had ignored his reasoning and instead launched the attack himself, and planted the seeds of doubt, jealousy and anger within his mind. Now all he could hope for was that Harry Potter was mentally strong enough to endure the coming storm.

' _You're the best hope that this world will have now, Harry. I just hope that you can stand strong against the coming storm.'_ Quirrel thought to himself quietly, before casting an 'envenerate' spell on the boy at the behest of his so-called 'master.'

' _Now comes the more difficult part.'_

Slipping his face into a neutral mask, Quirrel watched as the boy's body slowly began to wake up. The moment he had regained enough cognitive function, the youngest male Potter's eyes snapped open and his body rolled away from Quirrel before he halted and clambered to his feet: eyes wide and what little magic he had left pulsing through his tired body. The actions caused Quirrel's lips to quirk slightly in both amusement and surprise at the boy's natural instincts.

' _Not even I would have been able to react like that at his age.'_

The smirk on the mercenaries' lips then grew in size as Harry's mind finally registered who it was he was about to attack, before his brain decided that he needed to say something. However, before he uttered a word, his eyes seemed to catch sight of the rooms 'normalcy'. Eyes narrowing, the young Potter took several steps back before he finally spoke to Quirrel.

"It was you who attacked me."

It wasn't a question: merely a statement of fact.

' _Yes, I've made the right choice with you, Harry.'_

"Indeed it was, Mr Potter." He replied neutrally, eliciting narrowed eyes from the young man and a small flaring of his magical power.

"Why?"

"To test you." The reply Quirrel gave was as blunt and simplistic as Harry's question. When the boy's body refused to relax, Quirrel let out a small sigh before he decided to try and assuage the boys paranoia.

"We both know that _if_ I wanted to kill you, I could have done so without giving you the chance to fight back."

Harry's eyes hardened for several seconds before he slowly reigned in control of his magical power, forcing it back into his tired frame. However, he still kept his eyes fixed firmly on Quirrel, and refused to allow his blank mask to drop from his face. The two of them stood there for a while in an oddly agreeable silence: each trying to ascertain a better understanding of the person opposite them. Eventually, Harry seemed to find what he was looking for (or merely refused to stand in silence any longer), and thus decided to speak.

"So why did you want to test me?"

"To see if you are what I am looking for."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to make you my apprentice, Harry Potter."

That seemed to snap the boy out of his cold mask, if only slightly, as his eyes widened slightly in shock whilst his lips parted ever so slightly. Realising that he had the boy's attention, he decided to press onwards.

"I know you want to study under my direct tutelage, Mr Potter: your little _unsubtle_ courage test earlier proved that much to me." He responded dryly, earning a small smile from the young Potter, who had the decency to look a little bit sheepish at being caught so easily. When he asked again whether or not he wished to study under him, the young Potter nodded his head eagerly. However, there was one final thing that Quirrel needed to check before he fully committed himself to teaching the boy, instead of his elder siblings like her originally planned to.

"Tell me, boy. Why do you want to study under me: and don't try to say that your reasons are your own. Either you tell me now, or you walk away with nothing."

Quirrel knew that the boy would try to hide his true nature for as long as possible, deny his intentions and attempt to camouflage it. But the simple truth was that he and Harry were of the same stock: the only type of people who could truly understand one another fully. He wanted to be nothing less than the very best wizard to have ever lived, just like Quirrel himself. Or at least that was the vibe that he got from the boy. He had been wrong before, after all.

He just hoped he was right this time.

The young Potter stood there for a while, frowning as he weighed up Quirrel's words before finally responding to them.

"I've always been …. different from the rest of my family," Harry said hesitantly, as if unsure as to how to best communicate his thoughts on the matter, "I've never been as smart as my sisters or as good as my brother at Quidditch, but I've always been a better fighter than them. And a better strategist and liar too."

Harry's words were calm and even now as he slowly found the confidence to put his feelings into words. After several seconds of quiet, the boy finally continued with his speech.

"My mother and father don't seem to care about my talents though, and just focus on my siblings instead. I don't know if it's because it goes against their pacifistic nature and they don't like it, or if they ignore me simply because they favour my siblings. But what I do know is that I'm fed-up of living in the shadow of my siblings! Hell, my little sister is more well-known than me, despite the fact she's never been to an official function.

Everywhere I go its 'I didn't know the Potters had another child' or 'You must be just like your siblings. I'm sick of it! I just want to be recognised as my own person: as Harry Potter, the fourth child of the Potter family. Not as Harry Potter: the mediocre little brother to Iris, Rose and Alex Potter and the older brother of the girl who lived."

By this point, Harry had slowly begun to discard the calm façade he had been wearing earlier, in favour of allowing years of pent-up anger to swell forth from his soul, much to the delight of the voice in Quirrel's mind.

' _ **I did not realise just how deep his feelings were on the matter. This is excellent, he will be far easier to manipulate than I first thought.'**_ It hissed gleefully. However, before Quirrel could respond to the voice, Harry's increasingly passionate voice filled the silent air once more.

"So I plan to forge my own path in this world of ours. I don't care if I have to make a deal with Sirzech Lucifer himself, I will surpass everything that my siblings accomplish. I will surpass the feats of you, Voldamort, Dumbledore, the founders and even Merlin himself! I will become the strongest mage to have ever walked the Earth…..

Or I will die trying."

The final five words were uttered as little more than a whisper, but they carried more weight than any other spoken before them. Within the shielded part of his mind, Quirrel couldn't help but smirk mentally in satisfaction at the boy's answer.

' _He's just like me when I was his age.'_

Taking several steps closer to the young Potter, Quirrel made sure that his glare was fully fixed on the boy's own violet orbs. And just as he anticipated, the boy's gaze did not waver once as Quirrel strode closer and closer to him, eventually coming to a stop only half a foot away, his powerful frame towering over the diminutive first-year.

The two of them stood there for what seemed like hours until Quirrel finally allowed a small smile to cross his lips as he broke the tense silence that had filled the room.

"You shall meet me by the painting of Barnabas the Barmy, which can be found in the seventh floor corridor on the left hand side tomorrow evening after dinner. Tell no-one of your lessons with me, or they shall end…Harry. If asked where you are going, say that you are going to ask me some questions regarding the homework I shall set you tomorrow.

Now off with you, before curfew comes into effect."

The young Potter nodded before he swiftly made his way to the door. Upon reaching it, he turned around and offered his new master a tame fair-well before disappearing into the corridor outside of Quirrel's room. Said ex-mercenary continued to stare at the door for a while before he allowed one final stray thought to cross his mind as he turned to his desk with the intention of devising a training programme for his new apprentice.

' _I just hope I can prepare him in time. The path to the summit of this world is a long and dangerous one. I suppose I can only pray now that he'll be strong enough to make the tough choices when they come….._

 _Especially if this country is to survive what is to come.'_

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_

 _ **And there we have it ladies and gentlemen.**_

 _ **Now like I said earlier, I plan on keeping the chapters of a length between 10-15K if they're a 'standard' chapter. But major battles and duels will enter the 20K plus territory, just so that we can cover a lot more action in a single chapter, whilst also making them more epic in nature!**_

 _ **I know not too much has happened in terms of exploring the links between the DxD, Geass and Potter worlds, but there isn't much point as of yet. Chapter four will be where most of the 'revised' history will be revealed, with a small amount being given to you in chapter three. It's annoying, I know, but the simple fact of the matter is that I have to do it when it's convenient for story-telling; far too often, history lessons are just thrust into a story in an effort to just deal with it, and this ruins the scene as the 'info dump' is both poorly written and inorganic to the scene (i.e. : It doesn't fit). I'm trying to avoid this by placing the 'history lesson' in a far more convenient place: so please bear with me for a little while longer!**_

 _ **That aside, I'd like to know what you guys thought of the fight scene. I haven't written too many in my time, so I'm still trying to get my style down for them fully, but I like to think I'm getting closer to solidifying it. Along with that, I'd also like to hear what you thought of the POV changes this chapter. I know they were small, but again doing any more would mess with the flow, but I did try to get some more perspectives involved, as well as showing some more magic. If it wasn't quite enough, tell me what you want: more commonplace use or just flashier magic in the scuffles Harry's involved in. Like I said, I like to try and respond to feedback: but I do need some sort of idea as to what you want to see so I know what I need to alter :) !**_

 _ **And~ I think that's everything, folks! So for now I'll finish like I always do. Remember to drop a review to tell me what you liked about this chapter and what you didn't like so much. And if you enjoyed the chapter and haven't done so already, then make sure to drop a fave or a follow (or maybe even both) so that you never miss any of the action. After all, don't you want to know who's side Quirrel is really on? Or what he has in store for Harry?**_

 _ **If you want to know, you know what to do!**_

 _ **Right, I'm off now to work on the next chapter.**_

 _ **Peace,**_

 _ **Mantis.**_

 _ **(P.S: I know that the way I described the 'Bushin' wasn't really in-keeping with Naruto lore, but I changed it so that it suits my needs as a low-level illusion spell. And don't worry, the names and effects of techniques are the only thing that I'll be using from Naruto: so no BS acquisition of the Sharingan to worry about or Naruto stealing every single woman in the world for himself with his god-like powers XD ! )**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Notes = A/N**

"Normal Speech."

' _Thoughts."_

" _Foreign Language."_

 **[Sacred Gears/Weapon spirits speech.]**

 _ **{Sacred Gear/ Weapon spirits thoughts.}**_

 _ **A/N:**_

 _ **Oh, rapid fire update here people! Told you all I'd get something done for Friday. Took a little bit out of me, but to be honest with you all I just want to get out of Harry's first year at Hogwarts because, to be perfectly honest with you all, I have SO many more interesting things planned out for year two. So I've made the decision to blitz through to year two ASAP.**_

 _ **Now, with regards to the last chapter, I'm glad that so many of you were happy with the way I tried to portray Quirrel. I too have grown tired of seeing a Quirrel who is weak and pathetic getting curb-stomped by some overpowered, normally time-travelling or master-of-death-like Harry. The way to fix this?**_

 _ **Make him a badass mercenary/ vampire slayer/ treasure hunter/ monster hunter turned teacher!**_

 _ **Simple.**_

 _ **Everything else also seems to have gone down quite well with you all, which I'm REALLY glad to see actually. It means that I've managed to entertain you all, which is why I write these stories, folks!**_

 _ **Oh, and before we get started, I'd just like to say that I've posted up a poll in regards to the harem. As I should have expected, there's been mixed responses to the size limitations I've said I wish to adhere to: so I'm turning it over to you guys. Make sure that you vote wisely and that your read the information provided about each of the choices that are on offer, as you'll only get the one vote. So make sure to go visit the poll after you've read the chapter if ya'll want to make your voice heard on the matter!**_

 _ **Alright, admin and what not done.**_

 _ **Let's get this show on the road!**_

 _(Disclaimer: See chapter one)_

 _(Last time in 'Code: DxD Potter'.)_

" _You shall meet me by the painting of Barnabas the Barmy, which can be found in the seventh floor corridor on the left hand side tomorrow evening after dinner. Tell no-one of your lessons with me, or they shall end…Harry. If asked where you are going, say that you are going to ask me some questions regarding the homework I shall set you tomorrow._

 _Now off with you, before curfew comes into effect."_

 _The young Potter nodded before he swiftly made his way to the door. Upon reaching it, he turned around and offered his new master a tame fair-well before disappearing into the corridor outside of Quirrel's room. Said ex-mercenary continued to stare at the door for a while before he allowed one final stray thought to cross his mind as he turned to his desk with the intention of devising a training programme for his new apprentice._

' _I just hope I can prepare him in time. The path to the summit of this world is a long and dangerous one. I suppose I can only pray now that he'll be strong enough to make the tough choices when they come….._

 _Especially if this country is to survive what is to come.'_

 _ **(Chapter two: Hogwarts Year One, Part Two of Two).**_

 _(With Harry, walking the Halls of Hogwarts, 6:00 PM, four weeks after the fight with Quirrel.)_

Harry let out a small yawn as he slowly trudged through the corridors of Hogwarts without much sense of direction: simply travelling through its winding corridors without any single destination in mind as he attempted to slowly clear his head of the backlog of thoughts that had been building up over the past few weeks. All of which had been interesting, to say the least: especially now that his apprenticeship with Quirrel was now well under-way.

To say that the man was a harsh task-master was putting it very, very lightly indeed. In fact, Harry would go so far as to say that the only reason that he was still alive was due to the fact that he had already conditioned his body fairly well whilst he trained at home: something he almost wished he hadn't done now. The reason was that Quirrel used Harry's fitness and conditioning, along with his naturally stubborn nature, to devise exercises that normally left the youngest male Potter fighting to keep hold of his consciousness. He'd broken more bones in the past two weeks alone than he had in his entire life, whilst tearing muscles that he didn't even knew existed.

And whilst the training was brutal and his master unrelenting, Harry couldn't help but acknowledge the fact that he was already reaping the benefits of such intense training. His magical reserves were growing steadily with each and every passing session, as was his toughness and physical strength and speed. Now these changes were not awesome or stupefying in that he could go toe-to-toe with a Ultimate class Devil or SS-Class Yokai, like some movies would have you believe. No, such changes were impossible to make in such a short span of time: but what Harry was doing was equally as impressive, only in a real-world scenario. Already, he'd managed to knock almost two thirds of a second off of his casting time, and his control had improved dramatically.

The young Harry knew that he still had a long way to go, and many obstacles to climb. But every success must be valued equally, lest you lose hope and belief long before you reach your goal.

' _Just like Quirrel said….'_

 _(Flashback, Two weeks ago, in the room of requirement.)_

" _ARGH! GOD FUCKING DAM-IT!" Harry howled out as he crashed to the floor unceremoniously, clutching his now-mangled right hand. The appendages' entire form had been compressed into around two-thirds of its original size from where the majority of the bones had been ground into little more than splinters and dust. The youngest male Potter sat there for what seemed like an age, moaning pitifully until another voice interrupted his moans of pain._

" _You're still not condensing the power enough Harry. In order for this technique to work, you have to focus your magic until its threatening to overflow and blow your hand off: anything less than this will result in a similar result to…. this." Quirrel intoned calmly as he gently took hold of the arm which Harry's mangled hand was attached to, before allowing his magical power to flare slightly as a green seal emerged in-front of his hands and encased Harry's hand in a gentle green glow. Within moments, the searing agony that had been throbbing from his hand slowly began to fade as the powerful healing magic seat about restoring Harry's bones and healing the bruised flesh. It was as if the damage was being reversed in-front of their eyes: and like every other time his master used the power, Harry couldn't help but watch with a small sense of twisted fascination._

 _Whilst no-where near as powerful as Light-based healing magic, or the power of the 'Twilight Healing' Sacred Gear, basic healing magic which was used by most Witches and Wizards was still incredibly effect: just not as potent as the other types available. However, Harry wasn't going to complain about it: so long as his hand was fixed. Harry sat there with his master, lost in his own personal thoughts until finally, after what seemed like an age, his new 'master' spoke to him._

" _Stop it."_

" _Stop what?"_

" _Stop beating yourself up about being unable to perform the technique." Quirrel responded sharply, earning a small frown of confusion from Harry. His master often taught him one new spell per lesson, and the one that he had chosen for Harry today was one of his personal favourites. And yet despite is supposed power and skill, Harry still could not perform the technique for love nor life: and it was driving him insane, something which he happily voiced to his master._

" _But master, you said that you expect me to become the best one-day. So how on Earth can I hope to do that when I can't even get a simple A-class spell right. I mean, I didn't have this much trouble with learning Crash, so why now?" He asked in a sombre tone of voice, eliciting a small sigh from Quirrel as he seemed to plan a response in his head before finally answering his pupil's question._

" _Harry, what makes a great Witch or Wizard great is not the rate at which their magical reserves grow or how quickly they learn new spells. From Merlin to Dumbledore, every great ma – no, every single great being has hit a seemingly unassailable cliff during their ascent to the top of the supernatural world. And the reason that they have become as powerful as they have is because they kept throwing themselves at the cliffs that blocked them until they finally scrambled to the top._

 _So what are you going to do, Harry? Are you going to give up like every other person and settle for being average or above average? Or are you going to keep going and going until you finally scramble to the top?"_

" _But what if there's another cliff in my way?" Harry asked softly, casting his eyes down slightly as he contemplated the damage that making little to no progress could have on his plans. He sat there like that for several moments before his masters strong voice broke through the silence, with his words carrying the wisdom that the youngest male Potter needed to hear._

" _Then you keep climbing, no matter what. You keep climbing. You keep working. You keep striving._

 _Of all the things that matter most in this hellish world that we call home, the will to win and never concede is perhaps the one trait above that will carry people like you and me safely home. Sometimes, your will may be all you have to rely upon: so never let it falter. If you can do that, it will guide you through even the darkest of nights._

 _As such, when you succeed in something: be happy. It may sound silly, but finding happiness within even the smallest of accomplishments can do wonders for keeping your moral up."_

 _Harry sat there for a while, contemplating his master's words as he did so. The young Potter wasn't sure as to how he could best explain it, but the words his master had spoken seemed to resonate with his very soul, causing his fears to flee and leave his heart more resolved than it had ever been. And it was with this renewed and strengthened sense of ambition that the youngest Potter male jumped to his feet, fixing his gaze at one of the target dummies._

" _Then let's see if I can't give myself something to cheer about, eh?"_

 _(End Flashback)_

Harry smiled to himself as he thought back on that particular training session. He accomplished his goal not long after his masters' little pep-talk, and from that point on he had stuck by his master's words in almost every situation. Whether it be his own personal training or writing an essay for Herbology, Harry refused to allow his work to beat him like it almost had that fateful afternoon. After all, what kind of great wizard would he be if he couldn't defeat a foot-long parchment essay on … some magical plant that he couldn't remember the name of for the life of him.

' _Leave botany and all that stuff to people with a real talent for it, for god's sake!'_

Harry continued his evening walk without any true goal in mind, simply allowing his mind to process all of the information that he had gathered over the course of September and October that related to either the school itself or whatever happenings that he'd managed to hear about during his first two months at the school. Most of it had been rather useless information that Tracey had told Harry and the rest of his group during meals or when they would sit down in the common room, but a few bits and pieces did actually stand out to him somewhat.

For example, if the words of Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnegan and several other young Gryffindors were to be believed, then the reason as to _why_ not students were allowed in the third floor right hand side corridor was due to the presence of a _Cerberus_ in the room. Now normally, Harry would have just laughed them off and completely ignored their words as little more than tall tales. However, the sheer fear in their voices and the way in which they described the beast was far too realistic for Harry to pass their words off as a lie: their pattern of speech and the way in which they spoke about it was far too organic and realistic. As such, this brought up a whole new set of questions that Harry wanted answers to, but knew that he wouldn't get simply due to his hectic schedule and his lack of time to investigate the issue. Had he not been receiving almost nightly lessons with Quirrel, then he would have set aside one evening to do some investigating: even if it was only for the sake of his own personal curiosity.

' _I may see if I can't stay over the Christmas holidays, so that I can get some work done on that….. but that means breaking my promise to Lucy, and god knows I can't say no to her or break my promises._

 _Damn it, why do little sisters have to hold so much sway over the lives of older siblings?'_ Harry thought to himself with a small smile playing at his lips as he thought about his youngest sibling. He received weekly letters from the young girl, asking him about Hogwarts and the things he was learning there. And Harry, being the doting older brother that he was, would entertain her with letters that were pages upon pages in length which his mother would read to the younger girl for entertainment, in which he detailed his shenanigans and occasionally embellished on the truth in order to satiate her questions. It was nowhere near as enjoyable as when Harry used to tuck her into bed and make up stories on the spot for her to listen to, as it lacked the physical interaction or presence: but the letters themselves were special to Harry in their own way.

They allowed him to not only to keep in contact with his baby sister, but they also allowed him to detach from the road he had set himself on for a few hours. Instead of being Harry Potter, the boy training to become the strongest being alive, he was just Harry Potter: a loving older brother who missed his little sister terribly …

But no so much his parents.

Following his _polite_ refusal to be sorted into another House and what not, his relationship with his parents had been _strained_ at absolute best. At first, they had written to him directly in a rather blunt manner in the hopes of changing his mind. But when those attempts failed, his parents and siblings began to try and guilt and / or pressure him into accepting their requests. Had he not been backed by his master and Draco, then the youngest male Potter may well have collapsed under their pressuring by now. But as it was, he was still standing strong against the tide of their complaints and pleas.

' _It's strange to think that I'm already starting to stand alone. I know that I shouldn't be so keen, but this just feels right to me. I need this, and there's nobody alive who can sway me otherwise, so help me god.'_ Harry mused to himself as he continued his aimless trek through the halls, deliberately ignoring the surrounding world in an effort to focus his mind on the millions of thoughts that were racing through it. In fact, so lost in his thoughts was Harry that he did not realise that there was another person directly around the corner he was turning….

 **SMACK!**

"Aaaah! / Crap!"

 **THUD!**

….. Until he walked into them.

Shaking his head lightly, Harry quickly forced his dazed and confused body into a sitting position so that he could check on the other individual he had walked into. He felt a small amount of anger build up in his body as he realised that the other person may well have been paying attention, and thus could have helped to avoid this troublesome (and slightly painful) situation. However, that small amount of anger was completely washed away when Harry realised just who he had walked into.

"Shirley?"

Shirley, for her part, looked slightly dazed for several seconds as she managed to pull herself into a sitting position. Shaking her head lightly, Harry watched with a small amount of amusement as the young Fenette cleared her head before realising who she had just walked into and had just spoken to her.

"Harry?"

"In the flesh."

The next thing Harry knew, his rib cage felt like it was going to explode as the young girl opposite him wrapped her arms around his rib-cage in what he assumed was supposed to be a 'warm' hug. The young Potter attempted to be polite and not say anything about Shirley's greeting: but after several seconds (and an increase in the creaking sound from his ribs), Harry was forced to pry the girl from around his ribs whilst barely managing to utter out his reasoning at the same time.

" _Shirley….ribs…. please…. let go!"_

The moment he finished his sentence, the young Fenette pulled back from her friend and let out a small sheepish chuckle as she watched Harry take several deep breaths in order to re-inflate his lungs. Eventually, after several seconds of awkward silence, the young girl finally decided to speak up.

"Sorry, Harry. It's just that I haven't seen you in such a long time, and I, well, was kind of excited to see you again." She said sheepishly, causing Harry to smile at her words before allowing a small peel of laughter to burst from his lips as he responded to Shirley.

"Don't worry about it Shirley, I haven't exactly been outgoing of late. And for that I apologize deeply: I should have made the time to seek you out and see how you're doing, seeing how your new to this world and all." He responded solemnly, eliciting a light gasp from the young Fenette. Normally, Harry wouldn't have been so expressive towards another person (minus his younger sister), but there was just something about Shirley that made him feel comfortable in expressing his emotions more freely. He didn't know exactly why it was, but he assumed it was due to the fact that out of everyone that he knew, Shirley Fenette would probably be the only person who would not judge his choices or actions at purely face value. It wasn't a thought that Harry could communicate with words, but if he had to try, he would call his assumption about Shirley instinctive.

And Harry trusted his instincts to not lead him astray.

Shirley smiled at Harry's words as he helped her to her feet. Once she was firmly situated on her feet once again, the young Hufflepuff decided to allay the fears / worries / concerns of her Slytherin company.

"No Harry, you have nothing to apologize for. I should have made more of an effort to see you! I know that you being sorted into Slytherin must have caused you some problems over the past few weeks, and as such I should have made sure that you were doing okay.

So if anyone should be apologizing, it's me, and most certainly not you." She responded firmly, earning a small shake of the head from the youngest of the male Potters. Smiling lightly at her, Harry decided to repay her kind words with his own. The way that his Hufflepuff companion had spoken made Harry realize that she was probably going to beat herself up over what she thought were her 'failings' as a friend. As such, he decided to stop her from thinking like that and putting her through any form of emotional stress. It wasn't so much because they were true 'friends', but rather because Harry was able to be more like his rea self when he was around the girl. It was selfish reasoning, yes, but he couldn't honestly call her a friend when he had spent barely a few hours talking with her on the Hogwarts express. As such, he wouldn't have been too fussed if he caused her a small amount of emotional turmoil, but seeing as having her upset would be detrimental to Harrys' own needs, he decided to act slightly more friendly towards her than he actually felt.

That wasn't to say that he wouldn't eventually befriend Shirley: he was just being honest with himself.

"Don't worry about it Shirley. I've gotten plenty of support from my friends in Slytherin, so don't panic so much. We're both new to Hogwarts, and we've both been surrounded by new people, so it's only natural we wouldn't see each-other for a while." He responded truthfully, causing the young Fenette to snap out of her thoughts and smile at his words.

"Thanks Harry, that means a lot to me." Shirley responded softly, causing Harry to smile and shrug his shoulders, as if to say 'don't worry about' to the young Hufflepuff. The two of them then stood there for several seconds, unsure as to what to say to one another. Eventually though, Shirley managed to break through the stifling silence that had begun to suffocate her and her Slytherin companion.

"So, where are you heading?" She asked as calmly as she could. Harry breathed a sigh of mental relief, thankful that the Hufflepuff first-year had managed to break the painfully awkward silence that had been engulfing them. Shaking his head lightly, Harry shrugged his shoulders before responding honestly to the young girl's question.

"I was just wondering about really. I needed to get away from the crowds and clear my head a little." He responded softly, causing Shirley to smile brightly before she reached over and grabbed Harry by the arm and set about dragging him with her as she began to walk down the corridor that she had been following before Harry had bumped into her. Too stunned to say anything, Harry merely remained quiet as the girl kept a firm grip on his arm and spoke out to him as they began to traverse the halls.

"In that case, you can come with me to the library. I wanted to get some extra information for the homework that Professor Flitwick set our class today before you decided to walk into me: and I know of no quieter place than the Library in Hogwarts." Shirley replied chipperly, which was enough to snap Harry out of his slightly dazed state so that he could offer a sarcastic remark.

"Yeah, because otherwise that old banshee will destroy your ear-drums." He muttered darkly, referring to Madam Prince: the school librarian. Shirley turned around and lightly swatted Harry on the arm before responding to his rather dry comment.

"Be nice! Perhaps if you stayed quiet, you wouldn't have to be reminded by her." Shirley responded cheekily, earning a shake of the head from Harry as the two continued their trek towards the legendary Library. Normally, Harry would have raised hell about someone handling him like this, but for some reason the whole situation was highly amusing to him, so he decided to let this all play out: if only because it would offer him some sort of distraction from the one thought that Harry was desperately trying to ignore and thus avoid thinking about this evening.

After all…..

Who wanted to think about how a Dark lord tried to murder them and their baby sister six years ago to this very day, on Halloween no less?

 _(Two hours later, with Shirley and Harry)_

"You couldn't have just asked where to find the book, Shirley?"

"I knew where it was!"

"Like the library? Also, is that why it took you nearly two hours to find the damned book?"

Shirley pouted lightly at Harry's reply, much to the Slytherin first year's amusement. The Hufflepuff who Harry was walking next to had been adamant that they would not be spending long in the library, as she had acquired the directions / information required to locate the book she needed. However, it also transpired that Shirley had a less than excellent memory when it came to directions, and an even worse sense of direction, as it took them almost fifteen minutes more than it should have to find the library, and another hour and forty minutes to realize that she couldn't find the book. It was something that annoyed the young Hufflepuff greatly, and entertained a certain violet-eyed Slytherin greatly.

Which was a fact that he was only too happy to share with his irate company.

"Shut up, Harry." Shirley responded sharply, although her 'offended' tone was ruined by the amusement that crept into her voice and the fain giggling that followed her statement. Harry just laughed at her response before falling into step next to his female companion, his smile never once leaving his lips, much to Shirley's annoyance. The two of them continued in this manner, trading jibes and sarcastic comments with one another as they began to make their way back towards the Hufflepuff common-room (which was on the way to the Slytherin ones in the dungeon). And for the time that their 'banter' lasted, Harry couldn't help but wish that it would never end. He hadn't been this open or talkative since his discussion with Draco several weeks ago, in which he affirmed the young Malfoy as his first true 'friend'.

And it was a welcome change.

In Slytherin (and by extension, around Hogwarts), Harry had maintained an ice-cold and stony visage in order to ensure that he was not consistently harassed by other students. On several occasions, his demeanour had scared off several head-strong students from both his own year and the year above who sought to pick a fight with him. And whilst it was a useful deterrent, his front could only be held for so long: after all, he was only elven years old. And no matter what anybody said, no eleven year old, regardless of their family of training, could hold such a cold front twenty-four seven, three hundred and sixty five days a year. Therefore, Harry's conversation with Shirley served as not only a distraction from his dark thoughts, but also as a means of releasing the pent-up stress that he had accumulated from maintaining his cold and stoic mask.

After a while, their talking slowly began to peter out, and eventually Harry and Shirley were left in a comfortable silence that neither of them seemed too keen to break any time soon. The rest of their journey continued in such a manner until they finally came to a halt outside the Hufflepuff common room, which was located not far from the Great Hall or (rather usefully) the Kitchens. Turning to face her male companion, Shirley allowed an apologetic smile to cross her lips as she cocked her head to the side, gesturing towards the painting that Guarded her common room.

"Well, I guess this is where we part ways." She said, earning a nod of agreement from the Slytherin Potter that accompanied her.

"Sure is. Take care, Shirley." However, before the youngest male Potter could make any form of significant distance between himself and Shirley, he found himself being called back by the young 'Badger's' voice.

"Harry!"

Halting his advance and turning around, Harry caught site of a smiling Shirley standing in a now open entrance, the portrait having swung out of the way to reveal the passage that would take the young Fenette girl to her common room. Cocking an eyebrow, Harry watched as the girls smile seemed to grow before she finally elaborated on why she had stopped him from returning to his own dormitories.

"I had a lot of fun tonight. I hope I can see you more often ….. I don't have too many friends here at the moment, so I'd like to spend as much time with those that I do have!" She said with hope in her voice, clearly wishing for Harry to say yes. Had it been any other person, Harry would have blown them off in as polite a manner as possible: but he couldn't do that to Shirley.

The reason?

Because he felt exactly the same way.

He hadn't laughed or joked as much as he had this evening in a very long time: and that was something that Harry treasured. He may joke or laugh with Daphne, Tracey and Draco, but the simple fact of the matter was that he was still incredibly reserved around them. With Shirley, he could just let all of his walls drop and act like the eleven year old boy that he was, and not the great 'wizard-in-training' he forced himself to be most of the time.

Smiling slightly, Harry nodded his head at the young girls words before finally responding to her.

"I'd like that Shirley." He responded kindly, earning an even brighter smile from the young girl, who's hopeful aura was replaced with one of pure happiness.

"Great! Maybe next time we can introduce our friends to one another and get to know more people!" She exclaimed joyfully, earning a small laugh from Harry as he turned back around and began to make his way towards Hogwarts dungeons.

"We'll see. Take care of yourself Shirley!" He called out as he neared the corridor that would begin his descent into the dungeons. The young Hufflepuff called out to him one last time, wishing him good-night, before she herself turned around and began to make her way to the Hufflepuff common room, causing the portrait to slam back into place once more.

( _With Draco, in the Dorm)_

Draco sighed as he slipped his silk pyjama top on, a sense of contentment and calm flowing through his body as the soft material clung to his thin frame. Casting his arms above his head, the young Malfoy let out a small grunt of satisfaction as he felt several bones in his back click as he slowly made his way over to his bed. After several sleep-weary steps, the young Slytherin was by his large and comfortable bed, and within several seconds he was smiling as he threw the large duvet over himself. The beds had been charmed and inscribed with runes that ensured that the temperature was always comfortable for the person in the bed, whilst cushioning charms and relaxation runes ensured that the four-poster bed was more comfortable than anything a muggle craftsman could produce.

Rolling onto his side, Draco rolled onto his side so that his back was facing the other bed in the room, and he went to call out a good-night to his roommate. However, he stopped himself before he so much as uttered a syllable as he remembered one important piece of information,

Harry wasn't back yet.

Mentally rolling his eyes, Draco gently rolled onto his back before making a temporary lean out of his pillows. Then reaching out lazily, the young Malfoy grabbed hold of a book on his bed-side table and opened it up on a random page. And although he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the pages he had opened the book on, his mind was focusing on something completely different to the story being told within the book. Because instead of reading and immersing himself into a story of a legendary Dragon slayer, Draco's mind was focusing on the conversation he had with his new roommate and friend, which they had all the way back on their first full day at school.

And what an enlightening conversation it had been.

In all honesty, Draco wasn't sure as to what he really expected to hear from the young Potter heir. A part of his mind argued that all he would have to listen to would be a rant about how he hated that his siblings were better than him at everything and that it all wasn't fair: or at least something along those lines. However, another part of Draco's mind had argued that Harry Potter would not waste his opportunity to form a firm friendship with Draco by speaking of such trivial matters, and that he actually had something far more interesting for Draco to hear.

And that portion of his mind had been correct. Even now, the young first-year Malfoy could recite his friends mini speech word-for-word, although he could never truly hope to convey the raw emotions that Harry had when he spoke.

" _All of my life, everyone who's ever met me has simply compared me to my siblings: commenting on how I have to be as smart as my older sisters, as brilliant as my brother at Quidditch or somehow special like my little sister. But when they find out that I'm not as smart as my eldest siblings, as skilful as my brother or as special as my sister seems to be: they just ignore me. Not outright, you see, but rather subtly._

 _Sharp and short answers, making excuses or just brushing me off: everyone has done it to me at least once after they've heard about me! In all the time that I've been alive, nobody has ever once stopped and asked me 'Hey Harry, what_ _ **are**_ _you good at?'. Instead, all they've ever said is 'Oh, well if you try hard you may become like your brother / sisters.'_

 _And I'm sick of it._

 _I want people to recognize my skills for what they are, and I want them to stop trying to compare me to my siblings when we are obviously so different from one another. I mean, we don't even share eye colours for fuck's sake! Ever since I was seven, I've known that I'll always live in the shadow of my siblings, no matter how hard I try: as long as I try to be better than them at what they do._

 _So I decided to stop competing with them, and become my own person instead. Instead of being the star-struck sibling they seem happy for me to be, I'm going to forge my own path in this world and carve my name into the annuls of history. For I shall either become the strongest mage to have ever lived, or I shall die trying._

 _And I will crush anyone who stands in my way."_

Harry's words had carried a certain mixture of emotions that Draco wasn't sure that he could describe properly even now. It seemed like every single emotion was fighting to make an appearance at the same time: from anger to love, hate to respect and envy to awe. It was as if he didn't truly know how he felt about the whole matter, save for the fact that he wanted to accomplish his dream. It was a weird thought, but the more Draco considered Harry's personality and his position within his family, he realised that the two of them shared more in common than he first thought.

Whilst Harry sought to break away from his sibling's shadow so that he could be recognized as his own person and not their failure of a little brother, Draco sought to become his own man and not follow his father's legacy as an 'unwilling' Death – Eater. Their end goals may have been different, as well as their reasons: but the basic principle was exactly the same, something which Draco was very grateful for.

It allowed him and Harry to understand each-other with a greater degree of ease, and thus ensured that their fledgling friendship had solid foundations. Now whilst Draco wouldn't go so far as to say that they were true 'friends', they were most certainly well on their way to being as such.

' _Honestly, I sometimes wonder what I'd be like if I hadn't met him on that train.'_ Draco thought to himself, with his mind conjuring up images of himself preying on other students with increasing levels of cruelty in order to maintain the mask that he needed to protect him from his father's wrath. It made the young Malfoy sick to the bottom of his stomach as he imagined the lie that he would have been forced to live had it not been for Harry's arrival. He may still act in a less than _polite_ manner towards most people, but he did make sure to show his more sociable side every once in a while with his new group, whilst Harry himself proved to be an excellent person to speak to about his frustrations, as he lived a similar life until recently.

' _I just wish I could be as free as him when it comes to breaking the mould.'_ The Slytherin first year grumbled mentally, trying to picture a reality in which his father would be kind and loving, and support his son in his choices like the Potters inevitably would do with Harry.

….

….

' _Okay, I'm not sure what's scarier. The idea of father being nice for no apparent reason, or him being angry like he can be. On second thoughts, I don't even what to think about any of this._

 _But then again, it is an interesting debate.'_ Draco was just about to close his book and allow himself to be consumed by the somewhat uncomfortable (and yet somehow interesting) debate that was taking place within his mind. However, before he could delve into the finer points of the discussion, his focus was broken and his attention forced onto the door to his dorm as his roommate finally came stumbling in.

"It's fifteen minutes past curfew." Draco commented off-handedly, earning a small mock-glare from Harry as he made his way over to his bed.

"I didn't realize that you were my mother, Draco." He shot back as he dumped his robes on his bed, leaving him in a white shirt and a black pair of trousers. Draco chuckled lightly at his roommate's response, who was now striding away from his bed, the young Potter opened one of his draws and immediately began rummaging around, clearly searching for a towel. After several seconds of unsuccessful searching, the youngest of the male Potters let out a growl of frustration before finally speaking to his roommate again.

"I saw Shirley this evening." He commented off-handedly, causing Draco's eyes to widen in slight surprise and then mortification as memories of his train journey came flooding back to him.

"Crap. I'm not gonna lie, I almost completely forgot about her." Draco admitted whilst hanging his head. He'd enjoyed the young Muggle-born mage's company on the train, and as such he felt slightly guilty about almost forgetting that she even existed. But before he could begin to beat himself up over the whole affair, Harry's voice broke through the silence that had begun to fill the room.

"She doesn't mind, you know. In fact, she understands completely and wants to see not only you, but Tracey and Daphne as well." Harry stated calmly, drawing a slightly surprised look from Draco. He'd expected the girl to be at least a little bit angry with the two of them for not having spoken to her in such a long period of time, so to hear that she was keen to see not only Harry but ALSO himself, Daphne and Tracey shocked him slightly. That girl must not have had a single mean bone in her body for her not to be even slightly angry with them. And as a consequence, his response to Harry's statement conveyed his surprise.

"Woah, that's um~ ….." Draco trailed off, struggling to find a way of phrasing his shock in a polite way. Fortunately, Harry was on hand to offer help.

"Surprising?" The second youngest Potter supplied earning a small nod from Draco, who couldn't help but mutter out a sarcastic response.

"That's putting it mildly."

"I know right, when she first realized who I was, I thought she was going to throttle me. So I'm sure you can imagine that I was surprised when she tried to crush my ribs with a hug." He commented with a small smile. The moment Draco managed to process what had been said, he burst out laughing at Harry's dry commentary. Initially, the young Potter seemed just as amused by the incident as Draco: but when the laughter failed to die down after half a minute, he began to grow somewhat ….. _agitated_ by his friends seemingly unstoppable bout of laughter.

"I hate you."

"Oh I'm sorry Harry. Really I am, it just the idea of you hugging someone…. PHWAHAHAHAHAHA!" Draco managed to force out before he broke down into another fit of laughter. And to be fair to the young Malfoy, his amusement was understandable. After all, it wasn't often that you got to imagine your best friend, who was notorious for being a stoic arsehole: getting the life hugged out of him by a diminutive girl who he expected to hold a grudge against Harry. And considering that he rarely was given a reason to laugh these days, he was more than willing to take what opportunities came his way.

"I DIDN'T HUG HER! SHE HUGGED ME!"

"Whatever you say, mate." Draco responded with a cheeky grin, causing Harry to snarl in anger as he turned on his heel and headed to the bathroom after finally managing to find his towel for the evening. In fact the young Potter only stopped to turn and glare at his fellow first year: although his parting words felt hollow to Draco when he caught sight of the amusement dancing in his violet orbs.

"All of my hate Malfoy."

"Love you too, Potty-wotty Potter!"

….

…

…

"I'm going to kill Peeves."

"He's a Poltergeist!"

"Then I'll Kill him till he's dead for good!"

…..

….

"*Sigh* I'm going to have my shower now."

"I think that's for the best."

 _(Time skip : May 22_ _nd_ _– A week and a half until School ends)_

Harry groaned as he rolled his shoulders slightly as he made his way back from the Room of Requirement after just finishing off a private solo training session. This was a result of Quirrel being unable to make it to the session for whatever reason he had, and thus Harry was forced to take charge of his own situation: a common occurrence over his first year at Hogwarts.

The past seven months had been hectic to say the least for the youngest male Potter, as had life for everyone within the walls of the madhouse called Hogwarts. Not long after he had (quite literally) bumped into Shirley on Halloween, Harry and his friends had hooked up with the group that Shirley had managed to get herself involved with. They had looked an odd sight: Four Slytherin's, three Hufflepuffs, two Ravenclaws and a Gryffindor. But in all honesty, Harry had to admit that he enjoyed everyone's company, and it helped that mixing with them ensured that his friendship group was not limited to his own house. He wouldn't go so far as to call any of them 'real' friends, but rather close acquaintances.

Draco and Shirley on the other hand were another matter entirely.

Draco had slowly become Harry's first real friend at Hogwarts. They had yet to experience any 'setbacks', and were quickly becoming best friends, despite the pressure that Harry was being subjected to by his family. Shirley on the other hand was also his only other true friend at Hogwarts thus far. But unlike with Draco, the time he spent with Shirley was less focussed on venting his frustrations about his family, and more about simply enjoying the chance to act like a normal eleven year old for a while. The time they spent together alone was mostly used up either visiting the library or one of the many hang-outs that they'd found during their wanderings. It was time that Harry treasured greatly, and as a result it allowed him to develop a more natural friendship with the young Fenette.

Unlike with Draco, whom Harry had 'befriended' at first out of a sense of necessity, Harry's relationship with Shirley was free of any necessity; they were friends because they wanted to be friends. Now, that wasn't to say that Harry valued Draco's friendship any less – rather that he treated each one differently. Draco was the confidant that Harry could tell anything, whilst Shirley was the person he could simply cut loose around and not have to worry about ever being judged. It made for a nice change of pace as his master continued to push him past what Harry thought were the normal limitations of the human body.

' _Ahhh yes, my most benevolent and kind-hearted master.'_ Harry thought to himself with a small mental chuckle. Quirinus Quirrel was many things: but benevolent and kind-hearted were certainly not amongst them. Evil, driven and a cold-hearted bastard – most certainly.

But not kind-hearted.

Especially if his training methods were anything to go bye.

For the past two to three months, Quirrel had been forcing Harry to expend huge amounts of magical power during their training sessions in order to make his reserves grow. The process was extremely similar to going to the gym and lifting weights: your wore down and tore the original muscle and then let it heal naturally so that it came back bigger and stronger than before. Only in this situation, the constant expenditure of magic forced the body to either generate more magic or draw in ambient magic so that it could try and top up the persons reserves and let them keep casting. This naturally strained the persons reserves to include this additional magic, so that when they finally settled back down and were allowed to fill naturally, there would be more 'space' for the magic to fill – thus increasing the persons reserves. As such, the process was best done in a place with an incredibly high concentration of magic, such as Hogwarts.

If he was perfectly honest, Harry was almost certain that his reserves would not have grown as quickly as they had done these past few months had it not been for the fact that Hogwarts was so magic-rich. This wasn't to say that they were gargantuan by a grown wizards standards, but the young Potter was certainly getting there – already his master estimated that he may have the reserves of a fully developed third year or a starting fourth year. And whilst this may not have sounded like much, when you compared an average first year to a second year in terms of magical reserves, the difference was quite profound. As such, it made Harry's feat that much more impressive.

When he had asked why they were already focusing on growing his magical reserves, Quirrel had been rather ambiguous with his answer, saying that it was merely to ensure that he would be able to run an important test at the end of the year. When Harry tried to press further, he revealed that the end result of the test would either be a dream-come-true for the young Potter, or a bust and nothing to worry about. Further probing had resulted in being forced to run multiple laps around an enlarged room of requirement that had adapted itself into a full-sized running track.

A fact that Harry was still only too happy to grumble about, even four weeks after it had happened.

"Stupid bloody Quirrel, punishing me for being inquisitive. He told me that I should ask more question! And what does he do when I finally ask more questions? He flipping punishes me for it." Harry grumbled to himself as he waited for the stairs between the fourth and third floor landings to finally stop moving so that he could continue his journey back to the Slytherin common room. This was the only issue that Harry had with staying out past curfew at Hogwarts: the stairs left you vulnerable for extended period of time, thus giving prefects and teachers the opportunity to visit each landing and catch any waiting students. On more than one occasion, Harry had been forced to either use illusion magic on himself or the passing patrol to ensure that he wasn't caught.

' _Finally!'_ Harry thought to himself as the grand old stone stair-case finally slotted itself back into position. The youngest male Potter quickly made his way down the stairs, but before he could reach the bottom, he heard several angry muffled voices making their way towards him. Casting his eyes to the door that was only two to three meters to the right of the stairway, he realised that he wouldn't have time to make a break for the next set of stairs, and not expect to be hounded by the people who came through the door.

So quickly flaring his magical power, Harry quickly set about casting one of his more recently perfected spells. A dark red magical seal formed underneath Harry, who muttered the spells name under his breath in an effort to mute it as best as he could.

" **Illusion Magic: Huntsman's cloak."**

The moment his finished the last syllable, his entire body vanished from sight, replacing his body with little more than what appeared to be air. The 'Huntsman's cloak' was a spell that had been created by vampire hunters long ago in an effort to help even the playing field somewhat. The spell itself combined not only the effects of a disillusionment spell, but also a sound-supressing spell and a noise-cancelling spell. The idea was that by removing the three main ways in which Vampire's detected humans, hunts could be conducted in a much safer manner, so long as the users were skilled enough to get close to their target without being detected. Unfortunately, this didn't stop the creatures from sensing the Hunter's aura or watching for any potential distortions in the air – but it was better than nothing. And right now, Harry was silently praising his master for teaching him this spell as the door had finally opened…..

And what came out of it was somewhat surprising to Harry.

Professor McGonagall strode through the door with an air that clearly indicated that she was just about ready to explode at whoever was arguing with her. Harry had only seen the normally stoic and unflappable Professor like this at the sorting ceremony when the Hat disrespected her: the rest of the time she had proven to be someone with immense emotional control. So for her to get so angry, it meant that she really was frustrated by whoever it was that she was walking with….

"But professor, you have to listen to us!"

And unfortunately, they were all people Harry knew fairly well.

Iris Potter came storming through the doorway with her normally pretty face twisted into a rather angry snarl that did not suit her at all. Following her through the doorway promptly was none other than Rose and Alex, who both looked equally as angry as their eldest sibling. They all went to continue their protest, but before they could, McGonagall finally snapped at the three of them.

"Enough, Miss Potter! The stone is _perfectly_ safe where it is, and nobody is trying to steal it. So _please_ return to your dormitories immediately." The woman snapped angrily in a tone of voice that clearly stated that she expected her order to be obeyed immediately. However, it seemed that Harry's sister had decided that suicidal bravery was the order of the day as she met McGonagall's furious glare head-on and refused to waver from whatever her argument was.

"We're not going _anywhere_ until you've made sure that the Stone is safe! Someone is trying to steal it tonight, we're sure of it." Iris responded hotly, eliciting cries of agreement from both Rose and Alex. McGonagall attempted to glare her into submission, but it was clear that the eldest Potter child was not going to back down any time soon. So it was with a resigned sigh that McGonagall rubbed her eyes before answering the stubborn students.

"Very well. Although I can assure you that Professor Dumbledore and Mister Flamel have made the stone perfectly secure, I will personally go and make sure that it is still safe." She responded tiredly, eliciting cheers of joy from Rose and Alex and a relieved sigh from Iris. However, their relief and joy was short lived when McGonagall next spoke.

"But first I shall escort the three of you back to your dormitories."

The three made to protest, but when McGonagall pointed out that she had listened to their demands, so it was only right that they let her walk them back to their rooms – if only so they didn't get in trouble with any Prefects or Teachers they might encounter. Eventually, the three admitted defeat and slowly followed the professor back through the door they had come through, but not before exclaiming their rage on final time by slamming the door behind them.

Harry stood there for what seemed like hours, straining his hearing to make sure that nobody would be coming through the area any time soon. When his ears failed to pick up on anything, the youngest male Potter let out a small sigh of relief as he dropped his spell and began to mull over the conversation that he had just (accidentally) eavesdropped on.

' _What the hell were they talking about? What stone? Is that what the Cerberus on the third floor is all about? Of course! It must be acting as some sort of guard for whatever it is that the headmaster has stored here at the school in the corridor. But what sort of bloody stone could be valuable enough for the headmaster to think having a category three monster in the school is a good i….dea…._

 _Wait._

 _Did Iris say Flamel?'_

It was at that point that realization struck Harry like lightning. He hoped that what he was thinking was wrong, and that the Headmaster would _not_ be crazy enough to store such a valuable artefact in a school full of children. If it was _the stone_ Harry was thinking of, then the man truly was a first rate lunatic that should not have been left as Headmaster of a school.

"Please let me be wrong."

Normally, Harry would have merely thought that his sister was being melodramatic and that there was nothing to worry about. However, the manner in which McGonagall responded to the girls questions made the young Slytherin realize that there was a very _real_ possibility that one of the most legendary Wizarding artefacts in existence _was_ in the school. And that was reason enough for Harry to investigate his sister's claims about the third floor.

However, it was not only a sense of curiosity and a need for personal security that drove Harry towards the right hand corridor of the third floor. Something in the back of his mind was whispering to him, calling to him, pulling him like some sort of ethereal string that he could not cut or ignore.

' _ **Just imagine the power you could wield with the Stone. You could become immortal and have an eternity to become the strongest being in existence. You could become wealthy beyond your wildest dreams and have your family begging to know more about you.'**_ The same dark voice from the bridge nine months earlier hissed, deep within the darkest recesses of Harry's mind. He wanted to refute what the voice was saying to him ….. that he did not want any of those things and that he just wanted to know whether or not the masterpiece of Nicholas Flamel was within the confines of Hogwarts.

And yet it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so. The promises of power and the chance to surpass his siblings were simply too great to ignore: in fact, he would be a fool to do so.

' _Even if I can't take it, what's the harm in one single look?'_ He thought to himself logically. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity: after all, who could say that they had managed to see the Philosopher's stone in person, and not some crappy illustration in a book that was several centuries old. As such, it was with these thoughts spurring him on that Harry continued his journey towards the forbidden corridor and the potential prize that lay within.

After five or so minutes of walking, Harry finally reached the heavy oak door that lead to the forbidden corridor on the third floor. Tentatively stretching his hand forward, Harry was about to open the door when he finally realized something that had been bugging him for quite some time.

' _Those weren't my thoughts!'_

He didn't know what it was that caused this sudden epiphany, but what Harry did know was that if he were to enter this corridor now and reach the stone, his fate would forever be changed. It wasn't something that he could truly explain, but somewhere deep in his soul, Harry _knew_ that should he pass through this door, nothing would ever be the same. And that frightened him more than he would ever care to admit. And yet at the same time, it excited him more than anything else in the entire world.

' _Am I really going to let this opportunity slip past me?'_

With a thrum of approval from within his very soul, Harry took a deep breath before he finally resolved to push open the door. And it was with the fear of the unknown sharpening his senses and the thrill of a gambler with nothing to lose on a hand that Harry grabbed the door-handle firmly…..

And began the walk that would change his future forever.

 _(With Harry, Ten minutes later)_

Harry felt a chill creep down his spine as he passed through the black flames that stood between him and the antechamber were the Philosopher's stone was being kept. The majority of the traps that had been put in place had already been completely destroyed by someone else, leaving Harry an easy journey to the final challenge: a riddle involving drinking the correct potion in order to traverse the fire he had just sprinted through. They all seemed like they would give any good Hogwarts student a run for their money, but luckily Harry was _not_ a good Hogwarts student, and as such the challenge had only stalled him for a minute or so. He knew that following this path of devastation was going to be dangerous: but the end prize was something that he couldn't just ignore.

So it was with shaky breathing and a tense aura that Harry slowly followed the snaking passage he now found himself in towards its final destination. The passage was poorly lit, and as a consequence, Harry was forced to keep one hand on the passage walls at all times in order to follow the path. The task would not have been too bad, had it not been for the build-up of water and slime on the wall, which easily transferred onto Harry's hand. However, the youngest male Potter merely block out the disgusting feeling and focused on reaching the end of the tunnel, which he eventually managed to do after several minutes. Had there not been the possibility of a threat at the end of the passage, Harry would have used a Lumos to illuminate the path. But seeing as there was a very real possibility that there was a hostile person or creature at the end of the pathway, he refrained from using the spell – lest he alter a potential enemy of his presence.

The exit to the tunnel was dimly lit, and given that there was a (more than likely) hostile presence in the room, Harry quickly re-cast his _'Huntsman's cloak'_ spell in order to ensure that he maintained the element of surprise over his foe.

Creeping into the room, Harry idly noted that there were a row of slowly crumbling Greek-style columns that held the ceiling up. Just beyond them lay a set of stairs that lead down several feet before levelling out into a small space – in the middle of which stood a mirror…..

And a cloaked figure.

The figure was easily six foot in height, and probably well over. It was difficult to tell the figures gender due to the billowing and unflattering black and grey robes that they wore, but their (seemingly) bulkier frame would indicate that it was a man (or at least what Harry hoped was a man). Their arms were currently out-stretched and they were muttering in a language Harry couldn't understand. He didn't know what they were doing, but judging by the way that the figure had decimated the mirror's defences, then Harry assumed that they were here to steal the stone. He didn't know what a mirror had to do with all of this exactly, but right in that moment, Harry wasn't too fussed in dealing with it.

So creeping out from behind his cover, Harry began to carefully close the distance between himself and his target, all whilst carefully and gently building up his magic, readying for an attack. Within seconds he found himself within four meters of the figure, and he knew that they would have no chance at stopping any sort of attack that Harry launched at them. But before the youngest male Potter could even contemplate launching an attack, Harry found himself screaming out in pure agony as a compressed 'Wind Bullet' slammed into his ribs and broke several of them before sending him flying back several meters. The moment he hit the ground, Harry tried to instinctively roll off to the side, but before he could move so much as a meter, he found his body bound by ropes made out of pure magical energy.

Gritting his teeth due to the pain from his ribs, Harry managed to maneuverer his body so that he was able to sit up and face the figure that had managed to subdue him so easily. Glaring hatefully at the figure, Harry could do nothing more than intensify his stare when the figure let loose a deep chuckle that was clearly distorted by some sort of charm they had either cast of themselves or had woven into the fabric of their cloak.

" _Well, well well. If it isn't the youngest Potter at Hogwarts. How lovely to see you again, Harry Potter."_ The voice said mockingly, causing Harry to let loose a snarl of anger at the person's obvious glee at his current situation, before he managed to reign in his emotions enough to talk to the person whilst trying to figure a way out of is current predicament.

"I wish I could say the same to you, coward. But if you want me to give you a proper greeting then you'll have to stop hiding within that hood of yours and show me your face!" He snapped back in an angry tone, all whilst trying to scheme his way out of his situation. The figure let out another distorted and grating chuckle that Harry forced himself to ignore in favour of planning and maintaining a long conversation with his captor.

" _Do you honestly not recognise me?"_ The voice asked in a faux hurt tone.

"Sorry: it's just that I forgot to bring my X-ray vision glasses so that I could see through you bloody ridiculous hood." Harry responded sarcastically, causing the figure to shake their head in what he assumed was thinly concealed amusement.

" _And here I was thinking that you would never forget the events of that rainy Halloween night, all those years ago. After all, it's what made your sister so famous, with that little scar on her head."_

The moment he heard those words, Harry felt his entire mind freeze: his barely functioning brain repeating them over and over within his mind. His blood slowly turned to ice and his entire form began to quake in fear as he realised just who he was talking to.

' _No… it….. it… it can't be. There's no way he's alive, god damn it! They said he was dead: blown to Kingdom come by my little sister; so there's no way it can be him. No way!_

 _But the way he spoke about it… dear god. Nobody save my family and their closest friends knew I was there that night: the only person who could therefore know is….._

 _Is…..'_

"Voldemort?"

The name came out as little more than a frightened croak, barely above a whisper. Harry's throat had long since gone dry and his eyes had widened to their fullest extent, emphasising just how truly terrified he was. The cloaked figure let out a dark chuckle that caused Harry to try and back away from him, but the ropes prevented him from making any form of significant progress. Taking his time, the figure began to stroll towards Harry whilst raising his arms to the brim of his hood, before pulling it back slightly so that the brim sat half-way on his head.

"Not exactly, Harry." Responded the cruelly smiling face of one Quirinus Quirrel.

The moment he saw the face of his teacher, Harry's mind went completely blank as he tried to process what he was seeing, before finally rebooting and then immediately attempting to process the information that it was being given.

' _There's no way that he could be Voldemort! The man was killed six years ago in that blast god damn it, so why is mas…. Quirrel here posing as him…..'_ Harry thought to himself at a million miles an hour, desperate to try and find a logical explanation as to what the hell was going on. Eventually, when he could not provide himself with a satisfactory answer, Quirrel decided to put his now former protégé out of his misery.

"I am not his dark Lordship Harry… merely his….."

" _Vessel."_

The moment the hissing voice reached Harry's ears, the former mercenary turned teacher threw his hood all the way back, revealing a revolting sight that made Harry feel queasy within two seconds of seeing its reflection in the mirror behind him. For instead of revealing the back of his shaven head, Quirrel's actions revealed that his body was no longer entirely his own. A cold and disgusting face now rested where the mercenary's crown would have been, with no nose, crimson eyes that struck the fear of god into Harry's heart and thin lips that were quirked upwards in a sadistic smile – each a feature that dragged up long and forgotten memories of one fateful Halloween.

 _An elder woman with greying black hair stood in front of a quivering Harry, with both of her arms outstretched as she once again refused to move aside and allow the man she stood opposite to murder her grand-children. Her breathing was haggard and her body littered with cuts and bruises from where she had been slowly but surely beaten by the wizard opposite her._

" _Move aside, you old Hag." Voldemort hissed in a voice that was as cold as the embrace of death itself._

" _Never, you deluded freak." Elizabeth Potter snarled back in a defiant tone, clearly determined to defy the monster opposite her until the very end. It was clear that she knew her actions were foolish, but that she also would never give her killer the satisfaction of seeing her co-operate with him in any way._

" _Then_ _ **die**_ _."_

 _A single moment later, and Harry was forced to quickly blink as his entire face was splattered with something warm and wet. Furiously rubbing at his face with his hand, Harry eventually pulled it away and was greeted with the sight of a bloodied palm. Casting his gaze upwards, Harry watched as his grandmother's body crashed to the floor, her entire chest cavity and stomach blown away by a ferocious Wind magic spell that had all but eviscerated most of her body. The youngest male Potter was unable to do anything but stare at his beloved grandmothers corpse, unable to comprehend what had happened. After what seemed like an eternity, Harry was dragged from his thoughts by the sound of a hideous laugh that compelled him to look at its owner. Voldemort stood there laughing maniacally, a completely demented look plastered onto his face as he slowly stalked towards a now petrified Harry._

" _ **Time to say goodbye, little Lucy….. and Harry."**_

Shaking his head, Harry gasped in pain as his head exploded into agony. It felt as if someone was drilling into his head with a muggle power-tool without administering any form of medication: it was absolutely agonizing. After a while, the pain dulled to a consistent yet powerful throbbing sensation that caused Harry to finally lose control of his stomach and empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor next to him. Once he had finally emptied his stomach, the leech on the back of Quirrel's head spoke up once more.

" _It seems that you remember more of that night than you think, Harry. The night that turned me into this pitiful_ _ **thing**_ _– a shadow of my true form. I am truly sorry about your grandmother, but she stood in my way: and I do not let any obstacle get in way."_ Voldemort said, electing a look of pure hatred from the young Slytherin first year.

"Go to hell you fucking freak! Your just a murderous physco-" Harry tried to show some form of defiance by insulting the _thing_ latched on to the back of Quirrel's head, but that died the moment that Voldemort spoke.

" _SILENCE!"_

The instant that the word left his mouth, Harry felt his entire body creak and groan as a gargantuan pressure bore down on his body. It was like the weight of the entire sea had been dumped onto his body and was doing its level best to crush him into a bloodied pulp. It wasn't the fact that this magical signature was strong: he'd felt even stronger when Quirrel had used it to intimidate him during their training lessons. No, what was terrifying was that this power, which had coated Quirrel in a thick miasma of black magical power, was coming from the _leech_ on the back of his head.

' _How…. How can this much power come from him! He's can't possibly be this strong when he's little more than some face on the back of mas- Quirrel's head. But if he really_ _ **is**_ _this strong ….. just what kind of monster was he when he was alive?'_

By this point, Harry had virtually become catatonic as his mind tried to fathom just how strong the Dark lord must have been during the height of his power. Eventually, the young Potter was dragged from his shell-shocked state by the cold laughter of both Quirrel and Voldemort.

"I see that you understand just how powerful my master is, Harry." Quirrel said with a dark smile. Harry went to refute the statement, but his repost to the statement died at the tip of his tongue, leaving him to hang his head in defeat and acceptance of the statement. And whilst Voldemort and Quirrel seemed to enjoy the boys defeated look, said Potter was currently racking his brain for _any_ way out of this situation.

' _Shit. Okay, there's no way that I can win this in a straight up fight – hell, I don't think that even escape is really an option for me now. The only thing I can do is find a way for him to remove these bindings and then try and launch one surprise attack – otherwise I'm dead.'_ The young Slytherin was about to continue his thoughts on his plan of action, but he found himself interrupted by the ice-cold voice of Quirrel.

"I also know that you wish to be this powerful – and so we would like to offer you a deal." He said. Harry let out a small mental sigh of relief at the man's words – at least he would have a couple more moments to plan out some sort of plan to try and survive this mess. He knew that it was more than likely a fool's errand, but Harry James Potter would be damned before he would simply roll over and die for anyone, no matter how badly outclassed he was. So, gesturing with his head, he indicated for the Dark Lord and his servant to continue. Smirking victoriously, Quirrel began to outline their offer to the young Potter.

"We wish for you to join us. We know that you want to step out from the shadow of your family, and eclipse them and everything they do.

The power to do so can be yours, and all you have to do is help us free the Philosopher's stone from the mirror of Erised. Do so, and we shall train you until you become one of the most powerful Wizards in the world. And all you would have to do is swear loyalty to my Lord."

The entire offer was delivered without so much as a grain of emotion, as if it were some small-scale business deal and not a life-altering decision. Harry sat there, pretending to mull their offer over in his mind for thirty or so seconds before responding.

"Why don't you go take your offer and shove it up your fucking arse!" Harry shouted, mentally making a note to thank his godfather Sirius for teaching him that particular insult, along with several others. However, it seemed that the creativity of the insult was lost on the two dark wizards. Quirrel's eyes narrowed and his entire body tensed in anger – but otherwise his rage at Harry's answer was well hidden.

Voldemort on the other hand…

" _QUIRREL, GET THE BOY ON HIS FEET! HE SHALL HELP US BEFORE WE BUTCHER HIM!"_

He was very vocal in his anger.

Obeying the commands of his master, Quirrel marched towards Harry before grabbing hold of him and hauling the youngest male Potter to his feet and releasing the binding spell that he had placed on the first-year Slytherin, before proceeding to drag him along by the scruff of his neck. When they were within several meters of the mirror, Quirrel roughly shoved Harry forward, who stumbled to a halt only several meters from the mirror.

" _Tell me Harry Potter, what do you see in that mirror?"_ Voldemort asked. Harry went to offer a snappy and sarcastic retort, but it died in his throat when he actually saw what _was_ in the mirror.

It was a picture of an older wizard, maybe seventeen or eighteen: with captivating violet eyes and messy black hair. He stood at a respectable six foot in height and had a lean yet powerful looking body that, like his aura, indicated he was a fighter through and through. And although he couldn't explain it, Harry knew that he was looking at himself – a future version of himself.

Surrounding this older Harry were his family, all aged appropriately, and each of them smiling as they looked at him with pride, respect and love… whilst several indecipherable individuals were mixed in with other faces that he recognised – such as Remus Lupin and Sirius and his wife. He didn't know who the blacked out figures were, but he got the general gist as to what this image was showing him.

His deepest and most passionate desire.

To be loved and respected by his family and friends, but as his own man, free of their shadows. The image caused Harry's heart to ache as he looked at the image, desperately hoping that this was not just a reflection of his heart's desires, but rather the future. Every fibre of his being was screaming for the image to be the here and now – not just some distant hope or dream. If he were honest with himself, Harry would admit that he could have just sat there in-front of that mirror for hours, happily basking in the warmth of his dream. However, not only was Harry not the most expressive of people, but his present company had little patience, it seemed, for whimsical dreams and desires.

"What do you see, boy?" Quirrel asked angrily, snapping Harry out of his daze. Realizing that they expected some sort of answer, Harry decided to lie and try and buy himself more time.

"I see Dumbledore handing me the house cup in my seventh year, as head boy of the school." Harry replied neutrally, eliciting a snarl of anger from both Quirrel and Voldemort as the former used his shared body to grab hold of Harry's clothes and whisper menacingly in his ear.

"Do not lie to me _boy,_ or I shall make your death more painful than you can possibly imagine."

Taking a deep and shaky breath, Harry was about to answer his captor but before he could, he noticed a change in the image opposite him.

The Sirius in the mirror pulled out a red stone from his pocket before handing it to Harry, who smiled at his real-world self before placing it into his pocket. Said real-world boy was about to question what the image was about, but before he could he felt something heavy in his front right trouser pocket. Eyes widening, Harry felt his breath hitch as he realised that somehow, the Stone was now in his pocket. He didn't know how it had happened or why, but all he did know now was that he _had_ to get out of this situation: or he'd be responsible for the return of the single most powerful Dark Lord of recent times.

So taking another calming breath, Harry responded to Quirrel.

"Alright, I see myself surrounded by my family, all of them in awe of my power and skill." He answered somewhat truthfully, hoping that his fusion of lie and truth would be enough to throw the man off. Unfortunately, it seemed like Voldamort was able to find the truth in his lies, and then some.

" _He lies! The damned stone is in his pocket. KILL HIM AND TAKE IT!"_ The leech that was Voldemort screamed in anger. Quirrel responded immediately by using his leverage on the back of Harry's jacket to throw him towards the mirror.

"SHIT!"

Throwing his arms up, Harry used them to shield his face and throat from the shards of glass that would have buried into them when he slammed into the fragile mirror. Gritting his teeth as he felt his arms being torn to shreds by countless pieces of glass, Harry soon found his determination to not scream crushed as several of his bruised ribs were added to the 'cracked' count when he smashed into the floor. Rolling onto his side so that his back was facing Quirrel, Harry let out several pained moans, whilst also casting his eyes out onto the floor near him: his eyes desperately scanning for a piece of glass. When no useful shards could be found, the young Potter looked to his own arms in desperation, and found what he was looking for.

Buried two or three inches into his arm was a large jagged piece of glass that would suit Harry's needs. So, clearing his mind of any pain and gritting his teeth for what felt like the millionth time that day, he grabbed hold of the jagged glass tightly and pulled. At first, no progress was made, save for cutting into Harry's left hand as he attempted to pull the glass out. But after several seconds, the glass released itself from its sheath in a spurt of crimson and a spike of pain in the local area. Pulling his arm close against his chest, Harry tightened his grip on the glass and let out a faux groan, in the hope of disguising his actions as him bemoaning his sorry state.

Straining his slowly fading hearing, Harry listened as Quirrel's heavy footsteps came closer and closer to Harry before finally stopping barely a half foot away. A faint rustling alerted Harry to the man crouching down, whilst a rough jerk backwards indicated that Quirrel was attempting to roll him over. The moment he touched Harry, the young man used every single last piece of information he could remember about Quirrel to calculate his strike. The moment he was satisfied with his estimation…

He struck.

An instant later and Harry let out a pained scream as his wrist was crushed in a vice-like grip. Forcing his tear-blurred eyes to his trapped wrist, Harry followed his gaze along until he was greeted by the surprised look in Quirrel's eyes, which was understandable, given how there was roughly three or so inches of glass buried in his neck.

The former mercenary and current vessel for the Dark lord let out sound that was a cross between a choke and a gurgle. Moments later, blood began to pour like a river from not only where he had been stabbed in the neck, but also from his mouth as it overflowed with the crimson liquid that was quickly filling his airways.

" _No you fool!"_ Voldemort screamed, and tried to urge Quirrel on in his attempt to kill Harry. However, before the man could so much as make a move, Harry forced his weapon-wielding arm forward, driving the glass shard further into Quirrel's neck, causing even more blood to spurt from his wound and mouth. Letting out a strangled gargle, the man tried to move closer to Harry, but his strength soon seemed to fade as he began to cease his struggles, and instead seemed to settle for staring at Harry with his cold eyes.

The moment his gaze met Harry's the young man couldn't help but let out a startled gasp as a magical circle appeared between the two of them. Quirrel grinned savagely at him, the blood pouring from his mouth making him look like some sort of cannibal. Harry drove the glass further and further into the man's neck, but before he could rip his throat open, the golden magical circle flared to life.

And all that Harry Potter knew after that was darkness, whilst a certain ex mercenary couldn't help but smile to himself as he finally felt the life leave his slowly falling body….

' _There's not much else I can do directly now Harry. I would wish you the best of luck…..'_ He thought to himself sadly, all whilst ignoring the agonised and angry screams of a certain dark lord. He knew that his sacrifice wouldn't stop him, but it would be the first of many stepping stones on the path to finally riding the world of the bastard once and for all.

' _But I know you won't need it. After all….._

 _I've made the right choice with you.'_

 _ **A/N:**_

 _ **Okay and that's a wrap ladies and gentlemen!**_

 _ **Now I know a lot of you will probably take issue with two things: 1) this chapter's pacing, and 2) Quirrel's rather sudden exit. To your second complaint, all I shall say is that whilst Quirrel may no longer walk in the land of the living, his role in this story is far~ from over. As to your first complaint, I have to say that I also feel that this chapter does seem a little off in terms of pacing, but like I said earlier, this year is supposed to be short and snappy so that we can get onto Harry's second year which will be EXPLOSIVE to say the least. I may end up re-working it into two chapters, but for the moment I'm fairly happy to leave it as it is.**_

 _ **Now, like I said during my initial A/N, I have something to say about the next chapter. That is to say that it shall be out on Tuesday the 4**_ _ **th**_ _ **of August. The reason for this is that it is my 18**_ _ **th**_ _ **Birthday, and I wish to get something out before then : because god knows that between the hangover on the fifth and playing my new PS4 over this time, I won't be getting any work done on the 5**_ _ **th**_ _ **and 6**_ _ **th**_ _ **I'd imagine!**_

 _ **Also, I will be adding omakes to the end of the chapter: as my way of apologising for my inevitable absence, and as a thank you for sticking with me thus far!**_

 _ **Any ways, I don't think I actually have much else to say, so I'm gonna wrap this up by asking that you all drop a review telling me what you thought about the chapter: from what was good and bad, to what can be changed and what can stay the same. Also, make sure that you don't miss a single step of this journey if your joining us for the first time by dropping the story a fave or a follow (or maybe even both)!**_

 _ **Alright, that's it!**_

 _ **Peace,**_

 _ **MetalGearMantis**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:**_

 _ **Okay, I'll say it: I have no ability to keep to self-imposed deadlines. But in my defence, I have been hugely busy this week, and a rather unique opportunity came my way which I could simply not turn down.**_

 _ **At my Uni we had a talk from a Holocaust Survivor / daughter of another survivor by the name of Eva Clarke. She was a wonderful orator who I had the absolute pleasure to listen to and then ask several questions of once she had finished speaking. If you ever here that she is giving a public lecture somewhere or she is speaking in your University, and you have some free time, I highly advise that you go and listen to her speak. She tells a grim yet fascinating story, and offers a unique insight into a part of history we can't (and indeed never should) forget, and it honestly opens up your mind in ways that you cannot imagine. As a History student her talk was not only enlightening but also inspiring – it reminds me of why my subject matters in a day and age when scientists and mathematicians look down on those of us who study 'old-school' Academic subjects, and deliberately try to belittle us. She reminded me of why not only recording history is important, but also properly understanding events and why the happened – and thus trying to find ways so that something never happens again.**_

 _ **So in all seriousness, regardless of whether or not you study History or even like it, go listen to Mrs Clarke speak – you won't regret it!**_

 _ **Any ways, enough about my week, here's the new chapter I promised you all! This is really the filler chapter before we begin year two, but it does still cover a lot of important things, so it's not a waste of time! Also, I'd like for you all to know that I have gone back and corrected the spelling of Voldemort. My MS Word was set to autocorrect the spelling to Voldamort instead of Voldemort (its correct spelling). This has now been rectified. That and the flashback for Harry's Christmas break will be put into the LAST chapter at some point this coming week – so if you want to read that then it'll be in the previous chapter later this coming week.**_

 _ **Well that's enough outta me, you've been waiting long enough.**_

 _ **Let's get this show on the road once more!**_

 _ **(P.S; Apologies that this chapter is ever so slightly shorter than usual, but in all honesty if I wrote any more the chapter would've felt unnecessarily long in my opinion, hence it's slightly shorter length.)**_

* * *

 _(Disclaimer: Chapter one)_

* * *

 _(Last time in 'Code: DxD Potter') _

" _No you fool!" Voldemort screamed, and tried to urge Quirrel on in his attempt to kill Harry. However, before the man could so much as make a move, Harry forced his weapon-wielding arm forward, driving the glass shard further into Quirrel's neck, causing even more blood to spurt from his wound and mouth. Letting out a strangled gargle, the man tried to move closer to Harry, but his strength soon seemed to fade as he began to cease his struggles, and instead seemed to settle for staring at Harry with his cold eyes._

 _The moment his gaze met Harry's the young man couldn't help but let out a startled gasp as a magical circle appeared between the two of them. Quirrel grinned savagely at him, the blood pouring from his mouth making him look like some sort of cannibal. Harry drove the glass further and further into the man's neck, but before he could rip his throat open, the golden magical circle flared to life._

 _And all that Harry Potter knew after that was darkness, whilst a certain ex mercenary couldn't help but smile to himself as he finally felt the life leave his slowly falling body…._

' _There's not much else I can do directly now Harry. I would wish you the best of luck…..' He thought to himself sadly, all whilst ignoring the agonised and angry screams of a certain dark lord. He knew that his sacrifice wouldn't stop him, but it would be the first of many stepping stones on the path to finally riding the world of the bastard once and for all._

' _But I know you won't need it. After all….._

 _I've made the right choice with you.'_

* * *

 _ **(Chapter Three: The aftermath and a most peculiar offer)**_

* * *

( _Inside Hogwarts Medical Wing, two days after the attempted theft of the Stone) _

Harry let out an moan of pain as his mind slowly returned to the realm of conscious thought. Every single pain receptor in his body seemed to firing at the same time, causing the young Potter's body hurt all-over. It was if somebody had dropped him into a vat of acid and held him under: and it was most certainly a feeling that the young boy had already decided that he didn't want to ever have to feel again.

"Christ, what hit me?" He mumbled to himself through cracked lips, coughing slightly as his throat and mouth grew accustomed to moving and generating speech once again. His thoughts were not directed at anyone, nor were they words that he really needed an answer to, but to Harry's surprise somebody _did_ answer his question.

"A number of different things mister Potter. In fact, I would say you would have to rank amongst the toughest and luckiest people I know on this Earth, given the state of your body when you were bought to me." An elderly yet stern voice answered, causing Harry's eyes to snap open in surprise. Immediately, the youngest male Potter let out a hiss of pain as his eyesight was awash with a plethora of bright colours that caused his eyes to sting. After several moments of blinking and silent cussing, Harry's eyesight eventually settled back down, which allowed him to finally look at his surroundings.

The Hospital Wing at Hogwarts had apparently once been the dining Hall for the school, back when it was just starting out and the student body was vastly smaller than it was now. This meant that the room was practically saturated with ambient magical energy from the students, teachers and other people who had been in the room. This coupled with the fact that the room sat right on-top of one of the four major ley-lines that fuled the schools wards meant that the healing effect promoted by the presence of ambient magic was increased tremendously, therefore allowing the resident Healers of Hogwarts to tend to their charges with a greater degree of success. Quickly casting his gaze around the room, Harry noted that all of the beds in the room, both on his side and the opposite side, were empty. The second youngest Potter was about to continue his inspection of the room when the stern female voice broke through the silence of the room again.

"Over here, Potter."

Snapping his head to his right, Harry couldn't help but let out a small startled yelp when he saw the woman who was standing next to him. She stood at only five foot three, but the elderly looking witch Harry was facing gave of a commanding and stern aura that told him that she was not somebody he wanted to get on the wrong side of. Her greying hair was pulled into a neat bun and she wore standard wizarding robes that were coloured a dark green, which was often worn by those in the medical profession. This was Madam Poppy Pomfrey, the school nurse and one of the few amongst the Hogwarts staff that Harry could honestly say he respected. The woman was a world-renowned healer who had apparently trained at the Sitiri family hospital in the Underworld when she had been a contracted magician.

But that knowledge didn't make her appearing act any less terrifying for the youngest male Potter.

Once he had managed to get his breathing under control, the second youngest child of the Potter family sent a small glare at the elder witch, who was lightly smirking at the young boy's discomfort. It was obvious to her that Harry was demanding an explanation for her antics, and seeing how it had obviously annoyed the young Potter, the resident healer decided to explain.

"You've managed to keep me working right until the final day of term, mister Potter. Did you honestly expect me _not_ to get a little revenge for that?" She commented with a small smile gracing her lips, causing Harry to let out a small snort of laughter at her reasoning.

"Fair enough I suppose." He started, earning a small faux haughty sniff of approval from the ageing witch.

"But you didn't need to be such an old banshee abo- YEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOW!"

Harry had decided to try and get in a small playful jab towards the elder mage, but before he could finish his comment, he found his right cheek being painfully pulled on by the mediwitch, who had a cold and creepy smile plastered on her lips as she responded to his comment.

"What was that, Mister Potter? I'm an old banshee? Do you _want_ me to put you on a two week course of the most disgusting potions I can find? Because I can easily arrange that…." Here the woman's face took on a sinister look whilst her eyes suddenly seemed to turn into blazing infernos of fire as she dragged Harry closer to her by his cheek.

" **What with how** _ **old**_ **I am."** She snarled in a nearly demonic voice, causing Harry to try and pull away whilst offering what apologies he could ….. although they sounded rather stupid considering that one of his cheeks had been pulled a significant distance from his face.

"I'm sworry Mdm Pomfwy, I won' sa' tit agains! (I'm sorry Madam Pomfrey, I won't say it again!)" Harry yelled out. The moment the words left his mouth, the firm grip that was attempting to rip his cheek off vanished, allowing the abused flesh to ping back into place.

"Excellent. I will be right back Mister Potter, I just need to get some potions for you to drink, and then the Headmaster will want to speak to you." The elder witch said chipperly, placing extra emphasis on the part about potions, which caused Harry's eyes to narrow in suspicion.

' _Oh they're going to taste horrible, I can see it right now.'_ The young man thought to himself with a small resigned sigh. He knew that his comments may well earn him a punishment, but unfortunately he _was_ his fathers' son in some ways – and being a smart-mouthed little gob-shite when being quite would be better in some situations was definitely one of them. Turning his eyes skywards, the young man let his mind wander to the events that had played out in the chamber that he encountered his _former_ mentor and his….. _boss_ …..

' _I can't believe that was really him – that it was really Voldemort. Professor Dumbledore and the ministry said that the monster was fucking dead. They obviously didn't look hard enough, because he is still alive…..'_

' _ **No, he isn't. You killed him, remember?**_ '

That realization caused Harry's whole mind to freeze in shock as he realised that he: Harry James Potter, had wilfully and knowingly used his own mind and body to facilitate the death of another living, breathing human being. At first he couldn't quite comprehend the realisation that his mind had come to – after all, he was barely coming up for his twelfth birthday, so how on earth could he have possibly killed someone. After all, that was the job of soldiers and Auroras, not young students like himself. But the more and more that his slowly recovering mind thought about it, the more he slowly began to accept the fact that he had actually ended another person's life without a seconds' thought on the matter.

He had killed another human.

But that was not the most worrying notion for Harry. No, for above the sea of emotions that was raging within his young and slowly recovering mind, a single horrific realization struck Harry more than anything his parents or siblings could say – more than any reprimanding words from an officer of the law or his own headmaster.

' _Why don't I feel anything about it?'_

And it was true, for all the emotions that Harry felt were not about the fact that he had killed another human being – rather, they were all related as to why he _didn't_ feel anything about killing Quirrel / Voldemort.

' _Where's the guilt?'_ He asked himself, only to find one of the primary emotions strangely absent from his mind.

' _Where's the rage?'_ The youngest Potter wondered, for he felt nothing but a disturbing level of calm and peace within his mind when he thought about the kill.

' _Where's the self-loathing?'_

' _The confusion?_

 _The disbelief?_

 _The sick feeling?_

 _Why don't I feel anything about it?'_

That final question was what was causing the youngest male Potter's blood to freeze in horror, churn his stomach and make his very soul feel sick.

He felt _nothing_ about killing Voldemort / Quirrel.

' _Why don't I feel anything? I just killed two people for God's sake, and the only thing I can do is sit here and accept that I did it? Why? I want to feel something, anything for god's sakes – just so long as I feel something about killing that bastard._

 _Does….. does this make me a psychopath or just messed up? I mean, I'm trying to feel guilty about the whole thing but I can barely bring myself to be bothered to think about the whole affair… I mean after all, it was me or him. And I wasn't going to die for some god damned megalomaniac, just because some people may think it's wrong. '_

' _ **And therefore there's nothing else to it. Now shape up and stop moping, you have a defence to prepare.'**_ A strong voice echoed through Harry's mind, causing the young Potter to snap out of his slightly panic-stricken state. He didn't know why, but Harry couldn't help but feel naturally calmed by the words of the disembodied voice – they resonated with his own logical mind-set perfectly, and the strong baritone that delivered them seemed so oddly familiar to Harry, as if it were a voice that he had heard all his life. The young Potter was about to question the origin of the voice, but realising that it was absolutely right, the youngest Potter male decided to put any questions that he may have had on hold in favour of constructing some form of defence against the impending questioning he would probably have to suffer.

So leaning back against his pillow, the young Potter let out a small sigh of frustration as he focused his mind on the task at hand.

' _Okay all I have to do is trick a bunch of experienced officers and the headmaster that I am one hundred percent the victim…_

 _Dam it why is it always me this stuff happens to?'_

* * *

 _ **(Fifteen minutes later, with Professor Dumbledore outside the Hospital wing)**_

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore could not help but let a small, almost unnoticeable frown cross his face as he lead virtually entire Potter family and an Aurora sent by the ministry of magic to the hospital wing. The reason for this frown was the seemingly heavy-handed approach that the Department for Magical Law Enforcement had been forced to take regarding the events that had taken place in the Ante-Chamber where Hogwarts headmaster had left the Philosophers' stone, after agreeing upon a fairly iron-clad strategy with his former teacher and (possibly) best friend: Nicholas Flamel.

The two of them had originally planned to draw the three oldest Potter children into the Chamber in an effort to make them realize that the man who had tried to slay half their family, Voldemort, was not dead. After fighting a losing battle against a possessed Quirrel (who, even had he not been trying, would have crushed them all easily), Dumbledore would then step in and save the three of them from certain death. They would probably all have passed out from exhaustion and injuries, before awakening to find little more than a few friendly Auroras waiting to question them, before being offered a chance by Nicholas and Prenelle Flamel to study under them over the course of the summer. From there on, the aging Headmaster of Hogwarts hoped to install a little bit more fight into his students, and turn them into powerful mages who would be able to slay Voldemort when he finally returned to Supernatural Britain.

What he got instead was something he had not really been planning for.

The youngest male Potter – Harry.

The moment Albus had first laid eyes on the young boy, he could tell that he was not like the rest of his family. His body and magic was always tensed and ready to retaliate to any possible threat – unlike the relaxed stances of not only his family but also his godfather's family, Sirius Black. However, despite this and his difference in demeanour compared to the rest of his family, there was one thing that told Albus just how different the young man was from the rest of his pacifist and kindly family.

And that one thing was his eyes – no, more specifically, the look in his eyes.

It was a look Dumbledore recognised all too well – the desire to become the best the world had ever seen, the desire to become the strongest. It was a rare look indeed; so rare in fact that the aging headmaster could have previously counted on one hand the number of people he had seen with that look.

Nicholas and Prenelle Flamel.

Quirinus Quirrel.

The only person he had ever loved.

The only student he had ever failed completely.

Himself.

And now Harry Potter.

After the sorting ceremony, the aging headmaster of Hogwarts decided to keep a closer eye on Harry than he had originally planned to – after all, his brother and two sisters had already proven themselves to be fairly remarkable, so he originally planned to avoid risking Harry … but the more the grizzled veteran of two wizarding wars watched the young wizard, he couldn't help but realize he had made a mistake. He shouldn't have given Harry peripheral attention.

He should have been Dumbledore's focus from the very start.

Although not as intelligent as his sisters, or as physically gifted as his brother, Harry made up for these apparent shortcomings with a truly astounding amount of magical power, and a mind that possibly even Salazar Slytherin himself would say as being too cunning for him to outsmart…

And then there was his acceptance of Quirrel's offer to train him : the boy had seemingly wasted no time at all in accepting the offer before throwing himself head-first into the training.

It was interesting to watch as Harry's moves slowly became more and more graceful whilst his magical reserves grew greater and greater. In all his years of teaching Albus had never seen anyone make the level of progress that the youngest Potter was making – hell, he may have been growing in skill and power at a faster rate than even Dumbledore had been at his age.

And that was why he changed the focus of his plans to Harry Potter. The boy's potential was simply far too great for him to ignore it and leave it to be wasted, and his mind-set seemed far more in-tune with what Albus needed for his plans to work, which would thus free up time that would've been used teaching life lessons to instead focus on growing and developing the young man's powers further.

It would be easy to interpret Albus' actions as those of some evil megalomaniac, a man who planned to manipulate a young boy into becoming more and more powerful so that he could either kill Voldemort when he returned or weaken him so much that Albus could simply sweep in and be lauded as a hero once more. The truth was actually farther from this than you could imagine – he didn't want to create a puppet, he wanted to create a successor. A mage who would be powerful enough to protect their world from the threats of Devils and Fallen Angels and maybe even unite all magical communities under a common banner – a mage to carry on the work that he had started and help bring peace to the Supernatural world they lived in.

Were his methods questionable? Yes.

But, in this instance, did the ends justify the means?

Albus thoughts so.

' _Or at least I hope so.'_ The aging Wizard thought to himself as he recalled the conversation he had with the Flamels about the change of plans. Prenelle had been furious at the prospect of effectively creating a child soldier out of Harry … but she had calmed down once the far more logical and (grudgingly) accepting mind of Nicholas explained why Albus was right in his decision. The immortal alchemist's wife had been disappointed by her husband's choice to back Albus over her, but she eventually conceded the matter after a long and drawn-out discussion, although she did leave one final comment for Dumbledore which still resonated with him to this day, six months later.

" _One day you will be judged for this choice Albus – and I pray that whatever divinity that is given your soul places as much emphasis on what is logical, and not what is morally right."_

' _Whatever my fate shall ultimately be I cannot change – but I can at least give myself enough reasons to face it with my head held high and my heart content in the knowledge that I did what I thought was right, something that very few men can ever claim to have the privilege of.'_ Albus thought to himself grimly as he allowed his mind to stray onto darker topics, as it had a tendency to as he reached the end of his twilight years. However, before he could become truly lost in his maelstrom of thoughts, he was pulled out of the depths by a voice calling out to him from behind.

"So Headmaster, how would you describe Harry Potter's character?" A deep, baritone voice asked the aging wizard, causing Dumbledore to snap out of his thoughts on Harry's and his own future. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Albus was greeted to the imposing sight of one Kingsley Shacklebolt staring at him with a slight air of curiosity. Kingsley was a giant of a man, standing at roughly 6'6 which helped him haul around the powerful muscles that were hidden by his purple and gold trimmed Auror Captain's combat robes. A man of African descent, his dark skin colour and imposing figure gave him a somewhat exotic look amongst the mostly white British mage population. A veteran of some twenty years of the DMLE, Kingsley was a long-time member of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's personal strike force to combat Voldemort's elite 'Inner Circle'. A personal friend of Albus, the headmaster was not too shocked by the man's line of questioning, and knew that it would stray into territory that may cause offence to some people present. After all, Kingsley was very much able to draw a fine line of distinction between business and social visits, and this was most certainly a business visit.

Smiling in his typical 'grandfatherly' manner, the Headmaster of Hogwarts responded.

"Harry is a highly intelligent young man with a mind that is very gifted in chess, if the words of Professor Snape are to be believed. He can be cold, almost phlegmatic to those he does not know or care for, but he is an amicable and rather witty young man – with a certain disregard for the rules. Although I have no idea where he got _that_ trait from." Albus finished with a quick glance over his shoulder to a rather sheepish looking pair of former students, who had the decency to look at least somewhat embarrassed by their former actions.

Smiling slightly at his friends words, Kingsley immediately realised his mistake and allowed his face to fall back into its neutral (and most common) form before asking several follow up questions : mostly inane stuff such as Harry's study patterns, grades and other such things. Albus knew exactly where his Auror friend was going with his thinking, but he didn't say anything to try and head the issue off at the pass – the man was only doing his job after all.

Eventually, the seasoned officer of the law finally asked the question that the Headmaster had been anticipating for quite some time.

"Do you think that Mr Potter, given his House here at Hogwarts, will be prone to lying or omitting and form of information?" He asked in a serious tone of voice. Albus idly noted several rather offended voices demanding that Shacklebolt apologize for the way that he has spoken about Harry, but before any of them could become particularly angry, Albus decided to fill the air with his commanding yet soothing voice.

"I do not believe Captain Shacklebolt meant any offence with his words – he is merely evaluating the situation as he sees it." Dumbledore lightly chided those who had voiced a rather strong opinion on Shacklebolt's words – most notably the elder Potter children and the Lady Potter herself. They all fell quiet and looked suitably cowed and ashamed at their outbursts, which caused Dumbledore to smile slightly in satisfaction at their response before returning his attention to their accompanying officer of the DMLE.

"As for the answer to your question, officer, I do not believe Harry would lie to you about something this serious any more so than a child his age. He has nothing to hide, and will only omit things like whether or not he was out of bed late that evening – he may be cunning, but he is also very moral." Albus finished with a note of finality in his voice, hoping to stop any further questioning by the seasoned official and set a good opinion of Harry in his head. He had lied to his friend, but he had only done so because the long term importance of making sure Harry was of greater importance. Albus knew exactly what had happened in that small ante-chamber, and he knew that, whilst Harry would face no charges, the boy needed to have a free summer ahead of him – and one filled with interviews and court hearings would not exactly be conducive for good training.

Nodding his head in agreement with what Albus had told him, Shacklebolt immediately offered a small apology to the family accompanying them, which Albus was pleased to note was graciously accepted by the offended parties.

Letting out a small sigh, Albus zoned out of the world around him until he finally reached the doors to the medical wing. Just as they were about to enter, a young-sounding voice called out to the aging headmaster.

"WAIT!"

Turning around, Dumbledore was not at all surprised to see the small frames of Shirley Fenette, Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass and Draco Malfoy sprinting from the other end of the hallway towards them. He knew that these children were possibly Harry's closest friends, Shirley and Draco in particular. The group of first years came to a halt some two to three metres away from Dumbledore's group, with only Draco and Shirley not keeling over slightly to catch their breath in ragged gasps.

Shirley, the one who had cried out to them, took several more deep breaths before finally managing to find her voice again..

"You're …. A…. about to go se….. see Harry correct?" She asked in-between several deep breaths. Albus nodded his head with a small smile on his face.

"Indeed we are, Miss Fenette. I take it that you wish to visit your friend?" He asked in a kind, almost grandfatherly tone. The young girl nodded her head eagerly as she offered her response.

"Of course, he's my best friend."

Smiling lightly at the girls words, the aging Headmaster of Hogwarts turned back to the group of people behind him. Shacklebolt shrugged his shoulders, knowing that there was little he could do to stop the family accompanying them from saying yes or no. James Potter on the other hand narrowed his eyes slightly when he caught sight of the spawn of Lucius Malfoy, and seemed ready to offer a no to the group, but before he could he found himself cut off by the commanding voice of his wife.

"That's no problem…"

"Shirley, Shirley Fenette." The young Hufflepuff offered with a bright smile towards Lily Potter, who could seemingly only smile back at the younger female. Deciding to step in so that events could move ahead, Dumbledore cleared his throat lightly before speaking.

"I do believe that introductions can wait for several more minutes…"

Here he paused and swung the doors to the Infirmary open.

"As I think the subject of all our concern is waiting for us inside."

* * *

 **(Twenty Minutes Later, Inside the Hospital Wing)**

"So let me get this straight Mr Potter. You were sneaking back to your common room on the night in question after exploring several parts of the castle after curfew. You then so happened to chance upon your siblings who were discussing the Stone with Professor McGonagall – and decided, despite the potential danger, to go and visit the Stone's location, where you encountered Professor Quirrel attempting to break through the Stones' defences." Shacklebolt repeated back to Harry the first half of his story slowly, as if he were either struggling with remembering all of the details that Harry had supplied him with, or that he did not fully believe them.

Knowing that he had to stick with the story he had given to the attending officer of the Law, Harry gently nodded his head in the hopes of keeping up the slightly shell-shocked look he had adopted throughout this interview. The youngest male Potter knew that he had everyone around him completely convinced that his story was true – all he had to do now was see all of this off with a few mute nods of the head and crocodile tears and he'd be scot-free.

Regarding the youngest Potter with a sorrowful look, Shacklebolt waited several seconds before he continued with his 'interview'.

"In a period of confusion, where you couldn't understand why one of the men protecting the stone was trying to steal it, Professor Quirrel attacked you and forcefully subdued you." Here, Harry forced his body to begin shaking slightly in an attempt to appear uncomfortable with the story being relayed to him – as if brining up bad memories. Idly noting the presence of his mother's hand on his shoulder, Harry made a weak gesture to Kingsley to continue.

"Obviously believing you to be subdued, Professor Quirrel went to return to his attempts at recovering the stone, but before he could, you made to escape. Quirrel attempted to stop you, but before he could a stray pieces of debris, probably caused by one of his substantially more powerful spells, caught him in the neck, killing him virtually instantly." Forcing tears into his eyes, the youngest male Potter nodded his head again, leaning slightly towards his mother for fake comfort. Gritting his teeth, he waited in a somewhat awkward silence for several moments before the strong and commanding voice of Kingsley broke through the almost deafening silence.

"Alright Mister Potter I do believe that's everything I need to hear. Officially I am not supposed to say this, but I wouldn't worry about this going any further – what you've told me falls in line with what I saw down in that chamber. You may be called upon to make this statement again in an official ministry setting, but I highly doubt it – you are after all, only a child." The man offered Harry what the youngest male Potter supposed was meant to be a comforting smile before turning his attention to Dumbledore, his Father and his Uncle – Sirius Black.

Sirius was a good looking man in his early thirties, with long shaggy black hair that almost reached mid-way down his neck, whilst a somewhat groomed goatee beard was proudly left unshaven from his face. The man who Harry called godfather sent him a small, comforting smile before following both his best friend, James, and his former headmaster. It was at this point that Harry finally allowed himself to breathe a mental sigh of relief. He'd barely managed to get a competent story together for the grizzled officer that had come in to question him – and had the man not been a fairly soft person at heart, Harry doubted that he would've been able to get out of this situation without telling the truth.

As it was, all it took were a few bouts of tears and some shaking and the man thought Harry to be a genuine victim in the whole mess – and not a cold-blooded little shit who had just justified killing another living human to himself. His friends had been sent out by Professor Dumbledore, so as to not scare them with the details– and for that fact Harry was eternally grateful.

All of his friends seemed to know when he was lying to them. And as far as Harry was concerned, that was something he could do without them questioning later on – least of all because he didn't know how they'd react to the news that their friend had killed another human being. Harry cared for very few people in this world, but his friends and baby sister were probably at the top of that list – and as such Harry didn't want their relationships to be destroyed by the dark and dirty secret that Harry now carried in his heart.

Letting out an actual sigh of content as his mother gently hugged his smaller frame, Harry allowed his mind to wander away from his dark thoughts for a small while, and instead simply enjoy the over-abundance of affection that his mother was showering him with – because god knows he didn't get enough of that when they did see each-other.

Enjoying the comfortable silence that had slowly enveloped the room, Harry failed to notice the sound of the doors to the Hospital wing being opened and then closed, nor the group of people making their way towards his bed rather quickly until he was suddenly knocked back into his bed by an all-too-familiar Hufflepuff first year.

"Oh my god Harry , you'll never believe whose' just arrived here. Like literally, you won't be able to believe it! It's amazing – I thought they only existed in fairy-tails or legends even amongst wizards, I never knew they were real people …" Letting out a soft groan, Harry couldn't help but glare at the openly laughing forms of Daphne and Tracey, whilst Draco stood next to him with a smug little smirk on his lips as he watched alongside everyone else as Shirley continued to babble from her position around Harry's ribs.

Gently reminding the young Hufflepuff he needed to breath, the girl immediately leapt of the bed with her face a bright red. Harry would have proceeded to laugh at her, but before he could he noted the shocked looks of the people surrounding him, minus the people who had been outside the Hospital Wing.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry shuffled down in his bed slightly before leaning past his group of friends so that he could see who it was that had drawn the attention of everyone in the room. Idly noting that Dumbledore was walking behind the two people who he had entered alongside with a large smile on his face, Harry finally managed to fix his gaze onto the two people who were walking in-front of the grizzled headmaster.

The first was a blond-haired man who appeared to be no-older than twenty five or twenty six years of age. He was rather handsome, with his strong and aristocratic face being only mildly marred by a pair of faint scars: the first running from underneath his right eye down to his jaw, whilst the second ran from the right corner of his mouth a couple of centimetres across his cheek. His build was more noticeably muscular than any other male in the room – a fact which was emphasised by the simple navy suit and white shirt that he wore, with several buttons left undone to add an air of casualness to his somewhat formal attire. His bright-blue eyes sparkled with mischief and tomfoolery unimaginable- but that was front. What it was for, Harry did not know, and before he could begin speculating on what he believed he had seen in the man's eyes, Harry found his eyes drifting to the person who walked beside the man.

And what a woman she was.

Platinum blond hair ran like a molten river down to the middle of this woman's back, holding a near unbelievable shine. She stood slightly shorter than the man she walked alongside by about two or three inches, but what she lacked in height she made up for in her appearance alone. A face that seemed to have been crafted by the gods, a magnificently huge chest and perfectly shaped rear-end, combined with mile-long legs gave this woman an aura that, although Harry couldn't truly understand at his age, he couldn't help but instinctively know he would in a few years' time. She wore a pair of boots which had a fairly tight pair of jeans tucked into them, which gave way to a simple white shirt which struggled to contain her breasts whilst a cream-coloured blazer was slung over one shoulder.

Dragging his gaze away from the newcomers, Harry couldn't help but note that his father and Sirius both seemed to be doing their best to NOT look at the woman. He was about to ask who the newcomers were, but before he could he heard the sounds of movement behind him. Snapping he head around, Harry could only watch with profound curiosity as his elder brother was being held back by Rose whilst Iris shook him lightly. Alexander, for his part, had a slightly goofy expression on his face, whilst his eyes appeared somewhat glazed over until Iris seemed to grow tired of his confused state and full-on slapped him across the cheek.

Momentarily stunned, the young man shook his head several times, a confused look plastered on his face. He muttered something that Harry couldn't hear, before Iris responded in kind. A second later, Alexanders' face had gone bright red with embarrassment. Turning away from the approaching woman, he immediately headed further into the medical ward until coming across a door, which he promptly entered – possibly to either madam Pomfrey's office or a balcony that was rumoured to exist.

In his slight haze of confusion, it took Harry several seconds more before he finally realized why his brother, father and godfather / uncle all seemed keen to avoid looking at the woman who had just walked in.

' _Of course! She's a Veela – it's the only explanation for Alex's glazed-looking eyes and Dad and Uncle Sirius NOT looking at her._ '

Snapping out of his thoughts a second later, Harry was just in time to turn his gaze back to the newcomers quickly enough for their first words.

"Hello there Harry, I do believe young Albus said that you are the young man I have to thank for protecting my life's greatest work, no?" The man said in a very light French accent. However in that moment, Harry was not concerned too much with the man's nationality – but with the words he had spoken.

 _Young Albus._

 _My life's greatest work._

"No way…."

Smiling at the young boys reaction, the man and woman let out small laughs of amusement before the woman spoke.

"Despite the fact you obviously know who we are, I do think that proper introductions are in order…." Here the woman bowed her head ever-so-slightly before continuing with her introduction.

"I am Lady Prenelle Flamel, and this is my husband…."

"Nicholas Flamel, although do feel free to call me Nick. It's an absolute pleasure to meet you….." The immortal Alchemist let out a boisterous laugh as he was forced to grab Harry's limp hand and shake it lightly. The moment that happened, Harry managed to snap out of his state of absolute shock and recover enough mental faculties to respond in kind.

"Harry Potter, it's an honour Lord Flamel, Lady Flamel." Harry stated as formally as possible, in an attempt to give off a good first impression to the two world-famous mages. Prenelle smiled beautifully at his response.

"Such beautiful manners, even when bed-ridden. It seems you've raised a lovely young man, Lady Potter." She said kindly to the red-head mother next to her, who glowed at the small praise offered to her by the witch several centuries her senior, despite her far more youthful appearance.

"Thank you, Lady Flamel."

"Please, call me Prenelle." The French legend responded kindly, earning a soft smile and nod of the head from the current Lady Potter. Nicholas, for his part, let out a long sigh of suffering before he decided to speak.

"Oh please my boy, call me Nick or at least Nicholas. Lord Flamel actually makes me feel my age, you know." He responded with a large grin and honest tone of voice, causing Harry to shuffle in a manner that indicated he was slightly uncomfortable with addressing the famous Alchemist is such a casual manner. Prenelle let out a small huff as she playfully pushed her husband.

"Honestly Nicholas, the boy barely knows you. Don't make him do anything he would find uncomfortable." She chided playfully, earning a small pout from Nicholas. The two French legends then set about quickly greeting the remaining people in the room, giving Harry half a minute to collect his thoughts and re-organize his mind.

' _Holy fucking shit. These are the Flamels – the actual Immortal Alchemist and his Ritual Mistress, I actually thought they were a myth. This is incredible – I can't believe that they've turned up to just say thank you for saving the stone._

 _But that can't be the only reason surely? I mean, they must have another copy of the stone somewhere else, it's not like they can't have had the time at any point over the past few centuries … unless it's creation process involves something that they cannot offer up again – but what the hell could that actually be?'_ Harry thought to himself with a small frown of curiosity gracing his features. The power of the Philosopher's stone demanded by the laws of magic that something of equivalent value be exchanged in order for it to possess its ungodly power, and it was that something that Harry continued to puzzle over until he was finally dragged from his thoughts again by the voice of one Nicholas Flamel.

"So Harry, Albus here told me that it's you me and my lovely wife have to thank for saving our stone from your Defence teacher, is that correct?" Nicholas asked in a friendly tone of voice, his words spoken as a rhetorical question which caused Harry's surrounding family members to beam with pride at his actions. Knowing it best to play the somewhat humble card, Harry sheepishly scratched the back of his head whilst shrugging his shoulders before responding.

"I wouldn't really say I saved it – it was just luck Quirrel managed to, ya know….." However before Harry could finish his statement, he found himself being cut off by the voice of the Lady Flamel.

"Honestly child there is no need to be modest! Had you not been there, the source of mine and Nicholas' extended life-force would long be gone and in the hands of an unscrupulous mercenary, and that is a debt I don't think we can ever fully repay…"

"But we can most certainly make a good go of it!" Nicholas chimed in at the end, earning a light glare from his wife. Pretending to wave off his wife's obvious annoyance, Nicholas' demeanour suddenly became a whole lot more serious when he spoke next.

"As we see it, the only way we could hope to pay you back for putting your life in such considerable risk for us, inadvertent as it may have been, is to offer you an apprenticeship under both me and my wife."

The moment the final few words left the Lord Flamels' mouth, Harry's entire mind seemed to freeze over.

And why wouldn't it?

Nobody save for the single most powerful 'light' Wizard of the past four centuries, Albus Dumbledore himself, had been offered an apprenticeship by the two legendary French mages. They were renounced in France and indeed the rest of the world for their reclusive nature – which is why most people who hadn't seen them thought them to be mere myths or some sort of parable as to what magic could achieve. Harry had too…..

And now here they were offering him the chance to study under them.

Harry could, and probably would have sat there all day in complete and utter shock, but luckily he was saved from such a fate by the velvety voice of Prenelle Flamel.

"Before you jump to any conclusions, I would just like to explain the basic principles of what we are offering you.

First and foremost, we do not intend for this to become a full apprenticeship, at least not until you are older and have graduated from Albus' care. We intend for this to take place over the Summer breaks, during the day so that you can return to your family in the evening. Our offer is obviously completely optional, but even if you ask for a monetary reward or something else entirely, our doors will always be open to you – so that if or when you feel ready, we can teach you what we know." Here Prenelle paused and allowed her husband to pick up from where she left off.

"From what Albus has told us Harry, you're a remarkable young man with an unfathomable amount of potential. And we, like your Hogwarts teachers, would be honoured to be able to help you unlock your full potential and become the best mage that you can be.

But like we said, this is all your choice." Nicholas finished with a small smile that Harry couldn't help but return – it was just bloody infectious.

However that did not spur Harry on to speak, he was just so completely dumbstruck by what he had been told, and was still struggling to process what he had heard. He sat there for what felt like hours, but in reality was possibly a minute at best as he tried to way up the pros and cons of what he had been told. The potential for learning that the two immortal beings were offering him was beyond imagining – after several centuries alive the two of them had probably forgotten more than Harry could ever hope to learn, and still know more than him. Also, as powerful mages in their own right, they would be able to help keep testing Harry's own strength until he finally become too strong for them.

However, their offer did have its drawbacks.

For one, he would be completely unable to see his friends over the Summer if he was training every single day, and he didn't want to fall out of contact with them when he had only just really met them. Also, if he was with the Flamels virtually every waking second, then he wouldn't be able to see little Lucy – and god knows that it had been torture for him going to Hogwarts. If he was in a position where he COULD see his little sister every day and did not, he wasn't entirely sure he would be able to cope. He loved that little girl far too much – but considering she was really the only one who didn't treat Harry differently, it was natural that he'd love her that little bit more.

He was most certainly not a Sis-Con.

At least not yet.

Although he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to visit his sister during a school open day one day in the future (A thought that was shared by a Red-headed Satan in the Underworld at that very same time, causing him to sneeze lightly).

'Stop digressing.' Harry thought to himself.

Shaking his head, Harry continued to weigh up the pros and cons of what the Flamels were offering him. Eventually, after several more seconds of deliberation, Harry finally spoke up.

"I accept your offer, but only under certain conditions." Harry began, drawing delighted yet slightly curious expressions out of everyone present. Once Nicholas and Prenelle had indicated for Harry to continue, he dutifully obliged.

"First of all, I would like to begin my apprenticeship after the first two weeks of the Holidays and end it a week before school starts up again.

As much as I love learning, I have been at school for the past eight months, and I am not keen to lose ALL of my Holidays to studying." Harry began, drawing nods of agreement from all the adults in the room.

"Secondly, I would also like the lessons to only be on week-days. Failing that, I ask Saturday's be a half-day of study and that I get Sundays' off. I don't want to burn out completely over the summer, and I want to be able to spend time with my friends and family." Nicholas nodded whilst Prenelle smiled gently at his words before responding.

"Of course Harry, we were going to suggest something along those lines anyways. You're still only a young boy – there's an entire life-time ahead of you that you can use for learning!"

Nodding his head in response to her agreement, Harry turned his head to face his family, who had gathered at the foot of his bed.

"Obviously though I'd need to get my parents' permission first." He said with a small smirk, knowing full well that his parents would say yes to this offer. And just like he predicted, his father burst out laughing whilst his mother gained a slightly incredulous look at what he had just said.

"If you had said anything BUT yes to Prenelle and Nicholas' offer Harry I would have not allowed you into the Library for the whole Summer." Lilly Potter stated with a rather steely edge to her voice, causing Harry to chuckle nervously – she knew how much he loved the family library, and Harry knew that she was deadly serious with her threat.

"No need to worry mum, saying no didn't even cross my mind!" Harry responded with a nervous smile on his face. Immediately, the current Lady Potter's face lit up in a blinding smile that caused Harry to sweat-drop slightly.

'Talk about a one-eighty much.'

Looking at the rest of his family, Harry could literally _feel_ the pride radiating from all of them, even his siblings.

' _Odd. I thought I would see at least a little bit of resentment.'_ Harry mused to himself. It seemed unnatural to him that not one of his siblings seemed jealous of his offer – instead they all seemed to be bursting with pride at the offer that had been laid before him.

' _But why? Why the hell are they not jealous of me? I'm finally in the spotlight for once and they don't seem to give a single shit! What the hell is their angle on all of this, what do they know or have that I don't?'_ A bitter and angry feeling was slowly worming its way into Harry's heart at the seemingly genuine expressions of his siblings. Even when he was finally proving himself to the world, his siblings didn't look threatened at all by his success, despite their attempts to keep him from the spotlight.

If anything they looked happy about it.

And that both annoyed and disturbed Harry.

'I'll have to figure this out later.' Harry thought to himself as he turned his attention to the madly grinning Sirius Black who had both his thumbs held up and an approving look in his eyes which caused Harry to return his mad grin with a small, reserved smile. His uncle / godfather always knew how to get Harry to smile no-matter the thoughts clouding his mind – it was like the man understood what Harry was feeling. It had always been the same when Harry was younger and writhing in resentment to his older siblings – the head of the Black family always managed to cheer Harry up.

Turning his attention away from his family, Harry turned to his friends. Draco did look slightly jealous for half a second, but a look of resignation and understanding seemed to flash through his eyes before they settled on happiness for Harry, with a smiliar look flashing through both Tracey and Daphne's eyes. In fact, the only person who appeared happy from the outset seemed to be Shirley, who's radiant smile was literally threatening to split her face apart. Initially, Harry wondered if that was because she had come to an understanding within her mind faster than the other three, but that idea was blown out of the window within a second.

Shirley was just genuinely happy for Harry because that's just how she was – the girl seemed literally incapable of holding a grudge or anything. She was just genuinely happy and proud of her friend for being awarded such a prestigious gift.

Turning back to the Alchemists, Harry idly noted as he shifted his gaze the approving and happy look in Dumbledore's eyes, who was undoubtedly proud that his institution had once again produced a mage capable of catching the attention of the famous French mages.

Settling his gaze once again, Harry noted the approving look in the eyes of the Flamels as he met their powerful gazes with his own. A comfortable silence filled the air for several moments before Nicholas broke it by clapping his hands together, a manic grin breaking out across his face and his eyes brimming with mischief.

"Well, it's been lovely meeting you all, but me and Prenelle should return home –we have tort… I mean training to plan out, and we should make a start on planning whilst we still have the chance." Letting out a humour-filled dark chuckle, the Lord Flamel practically skipped out of the medical wing, with his exasperated yet amused wife following after him once she passed on a final message.

"Like my _wonderfully mature_ husband just said, we should get going so that we can begin planning Harry's training. We will discuss detail of transport and what not via letters in a few days time, so don't worry about any of that for now. Enjoy the last few days of school and your holiday when they come…." Here, a purely evil smirk that matched Nicholas in its mischief broke out across the gorgeous Veela's luscious lips.

"Because you're gonna wish you'd ask for a longer break before starting your training with us." And with that, the world-famous mage strolled after her manic husband whilst letting out a chuckle that promised A LOT of hard work.

Harry sat in his hospital bed for several moments before finally breaking the silence.

"I am completely screwed aren't I ?"

And it was all everyone could do to nod in agreement with his statement.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **And there we finally have chapter 3! This chapter actually changed from what I originally planned for it to be – it was supposed to be the first half of a mini filler arc that basically blizted through Harry's summer training with the Flamels. However, I've decided to do this slightly differently so that you can see some of what Harry learns whilst also having a much greater length of time to understand the development of the relationship between Harry and the two immortals.**

 **Now I know a lot of you are probably pissed at the small role of Sirius thus far in the story. To you I can only apologize – Sirius will play an important role later on, but for the moment he's not really that integral to the plot. He will be – but it's a little while off yet.**

 **I will probably fill this chapter out a little bit more later on with a bit more dialogue between Harry and the rooms other occupants, but I really wanted to develop some of the plot and certain relationships. There'll be plenty of discussion between Harry and his siblings in the next arc that'll more than make up for this – it's just any inclusion of them would have made things more messy.**

 **Anyways, I know this isn't really a great chapter, and I will probably re-write it at some point, but I'd like to think it's not terrible and that it does its job well enough that you won't Internet-Lynch me for now !**

 **Any ways, the Six Nations is about to kick off, and as is my tradition I've got money riding on the opening round, so you'll have to excuse me as I go pray to the goddess of luck that I've made the right calls XD.**

 **So drop me a review and let me know what you liked and did not like about this chapter – what was done well and what could be improved upon, what can stay the same and what can be altered for the future.**

 **Peace folks,**

 **Mantis.**


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